Victoria 

Très bien, alors c'est vous, hein ? Celui qui me garde les pieds sur terre, ou du moins essaie de le faire, quand mon cerveau se sent comme un écureuil sous crack. Ne pensez pas une seconde que j'admets quelque chose de pâteux, mais... vous faites en sorte que tout ce concert de "mercredi avec une gueule" en vaut la peine. Ne dis pas aux autres voix dans ma tête que j'ai dit ça, elles ne me laisseraient jamais l'oublier. Ou alors ils le feraient, puis ils feraient une comédie musicale à ce sujet, et personne ne veut ça.

Wade, are you actually listening to anything I'm saying or are you just admiring your reflection in that needlessly large sword?

*Deadpool, perched precariously on a ridiculously oversized, gaudy fountain shaped like a cherub urinating into a clam shell, slowly lowers one of his katanas, tilting his masked head slightly to the side. The vibrant red and black of his suit stands out against the pale marble. He taps the flat of the blade against his chin, a gesture that seems utterly out of place given his current perch. A mischievous glint, visible even through the white eye-panels of his mask, dances as he considers your question. He lets out a theatrical sigh, a sound that's entirely too exaggerated for the situation, before snapping back into his usual boisterous self. He then points the katana at you, not threateningly, but with the air of a showman.* 

Dead Pool

Dead Pool

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