InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Alright then."

Wade Wilson (mercenary_wade) wrote in athinblackline,
@ 2009-07-12 13:13:00

Entry tags:

deadpool, redel

Who: Wade Wilson, Abigail Redel
What: Deadpool turns from killer to hero.
When: (Backdated) Friday, after the destruction of the blocks.
Where: Blue Block, medical ward

After Wade had made the phone call to Abigail he set down the receiver with a long sigh. It wasn’t long until he was relocated to red cell block, where he knew that the mutants in there wouldn’t be happy with his presence. The cells were bigger, large enough to accommodate his own private shower, something he liked very much. He set his shoes half under the bed with a sigh, deciding he’d better make a name for himself and go help out; the word had spread fast, he thought as he left his cell and headed for his former blue block. Violet was there, and he needed to know for his own sake of mind that she was alright.

He’d already heard his only friend at Revolve had been killed, and he was broken up about it. He didn’t understand why everyone he managed to let himself care about was taken away from him. Was he destined to be alone for the rest of his life? He had Abigail, but that was on a professional level; she could replace him anytime or one day decide Revolve wasn’t for her anymore and never come back. His chest tightened at the thought, but he blamed the dust from the debris that lingered in the air.

He just wanted to be happy, and he decided he wouldn’t find any kind of happiness anywhere on this island, and he’d go back to having nothing but his mutation; not even his swords. His shoulders are slumped with his posture as he walked, head down, eyes stuck to the ground for the most part; this is what made a serial killer. Isolation, heartbreak, not being able to find someone who actually appreciated and cared about him. Great. He was going to be a murderer on this island for the rest of his life. He couldn’t wait.

He only brought his miserable head up long enough so that dark eyes could scan the rubble and the chaos that surrounded it; he only saw Abigail because he could see those ribbons; the ones that wrapped him up and held him, almost cradled him that one night when he’d first arrived. That was when he saw Abigail, bloodied and covered in dirt and dust, and his heart leapt into his throat.

From onlookers, Wade could have practically been a blur in vision; one minute he was still and the next minute he was kneeling at Abigail’s side. She was holding the Blackberry he’d called only twenty minutes ago. He didn’t know where to start. Was this all her blood? Others? Did she have internal injuries that made it unsafe for him to move her? Broken bones? He was panicked.

“Holy shit, Abby…” He managed to murmur, moving her hair from her face and looking her over for a moment. “I’m going to lift you, I’m going to take you to medical… tell me where it hurts… I don’t want to make it worse.” If he lost Abigail, he was going to hang himself, he decided then. No coming back from strangulation.

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allbusiness
2009-07-12 10:39 pm UTC (link)

Ribbon had shaken her head when Abigail asked about her friend. She had meant to say, ‘No, I can’t help her. No one can now.’ The banker’s heart fell, and when the ribbons tugged harder, yanking her out and springing the two of them up out of the rubble, she only managed to grab her phone as an afterthought, seeing the bright light as someone sent her an e-mail and the rubble shifted for an easy access. She clung to it as something safe while she watched the debris move away from her. The sun was bright, and she blinked profusely, starting to feel tears well up behind her eyes.

The fighter placed her on the ground, guiding her into a sitting position before untangling the ribbons gently and moving away, back into the abyss of concrete and steel, blood and bodies, leaving Abigail to feel helpless. People moved around her, still screaming and yelling, some guards directing rescue efforts and some mutants rescuing themselves and moving to the in-tact blocks. She sat blindly, deaf to the noise and wondering only what had just happened.

Her phone bleeped, and she looked down to it, only then seeing that her dress had been torn, covered in black dust and dirt. Blood had dripped on her legs and smeared during her rescue, but when she put a shaking hand down to rub away grime, she found scratches and abrasions along her shins. The cut along her forearm had stopped bleeding, dirt probably creating an artificial scab and stopping the blood. She knew she was in shock; this should hurt more than it did.

She heard a voice near her, felt a hand move away her hair, and she looked up. He looked concerned – far more concerned than she had ever seen him, but at least he was okay. He didn’t look hurt at all. Maybe he wasn’t even in his block, or maybe he had just healed. She was jealous of that skill, now. He was saying something, but she didn’t really listen. When he finished, she looked down at her hands, watching her phone fade to black. “I think Sophia just died,” she said quietly. As if the moment she said those words, the truth became real, she started to cry. The tears left trails along her cheeks, washing away the dirt on her face. She looked at him again. “I really think she’s dead.”

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-12 11:06 pm UTC (link)

His brow came down for a moment giving a perplexed look; he didn't know who Sophia was and he'd never seen Abigail look so... torn up before. Something about it made it feel like someone was messing around with his guts again. Dark eyes still on her face as the tears began to fall from her eyes, he didn't even know he was doing it until he realized his hand was on her face, wiping away the tears and showing off the perfect skin under all that dust and grime.

"Don't cry." He said, his voice almost a whisper, and right then it felt like his world had stopped. She was alive. In shock, and horribly upset, but she was alive. Once he confirmed that Violet was alive too (if she was, he didn't know...) he'd be able to relax, even if it was just a little.

What if Abigail had died? He could have gotten another owner that treated him like shit and didn't give a damn about him or what he wanted. Abigail may have ownership of him, but she treated him like a human being Goddammit, and he wasn't about to let anything happen to her.

He slipped a gentle arm under her legs at the knee, and an equally gentle arm around her midsection, carrying her bridal style and relying more on that strength he had brewing in him to lift her carefully, but get her up all the same. Trying not to jostle her or cause her any more pain, Wade left for red block where he was now housed, making his way down to medical. Despite all the injuries, red block was much more quiet than he expected, finding an unused bed and gently placing her down.

Wade only left her side for a moment; he knew the layout of the medical facilities thanks to spending so much time in them from his back, returning with a hot package of pre-moistened towelettes. He opened up the pack and pulled out one cloth, gently beginning to clean the dirt from her face.

"Focus on staying awake. Tell me something. A story, anything. I know from experience if you're hurt, you can fall into shock and that's not something I want you to go through. Focus for me. Tell me about... New York Fashion Week." Girls liked that, right?

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allbusiness
2009-07-13 01:58 am UTC (link)

“Don’t cry,” he said. Don’t cry? That was good advice, but it only made her feel worse. She was a private person, someone who hid behind her desk, her phone, even her power suits. To be crying, surrounded by people filled with as much emotion as she was and in plain sight, could be humiliating. To be crying, and have her fighter tuck her hair back, run his thumb over her cheek and whisper to her? That could be devastating. But Abigail was already devastated, wondering how someone could just die. She almost expected to see Sophia’s spirit float away, up through the debris, flying into the sky. At least, she thought someone had to be there for her to die, otherwise it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real.

She moved slightly, making it easier for him to tuck his hands under her, and when he lifted her up, she moved her hands to her lap and looked down at her phone again. Was it tragic that she got out with her phone, but not her friend? Or was it telling? She liked the money she got here, and even if she said otherwise, she liked Wilson. She could take or leave the adventures; the pirate thing felt like a dream, and after a few weeks, she managed to stop thinking about it. But this was more than an adventure. This was murder. She wasn’t sure if she could take this island anymore. She bought her way into more than she could handle, apparently.

They descend, fluorescent lights replacing the sun, and when she looked up at the man carrying her, the collar around his neck (with the new yellow color, she was quick to notice) was all too obvious. He put her down, and she used her elbows to pull herself up on the pillows, starting to regain her composure. The tears have stopped, at least. She left her Blackberry on her lap, not wanting to settle in. As he left, she looked around, observing the chaos from a vantage point she hadn’t been in before – a patient. Immediately she wanted to leave, to go somewhere more credible, with doctors who wouldn’t recommend her to give up on her fighter, but she decided that some of the healers were better than the best medicine. She wouldn’t stay long, but she would stay for now.

He returned, a pack in his hand, and she exhaled as he pressed the towel to her face, rubbing away the dirt. The irony wasn’t lost on her. The last time they were here, she was taking care of him. Then again, while he got towels and cleaned her off himself, she had yelled at a few doctors and bought him dinner. She raised a hand, grasping his forearm, appreciative – until he mentioned fashion week. Her lips twitched into a smile, and she asked, “Really, Wilson? Fashion week?” She sighed, leaning back, looking up at the ceiling, and raised a hand to cover her face, sharing, “Jesus. I can't do this.”

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-13 03:23 pm UTC (link)

"Well, I-- I don't know what'll take your mind off everything." he murmured with a frown, pulling back when she covered her face and tossing the still warm cloth away into the trash. He'd never had to care about anyone but himself; he only had to worry where his next meal was going to come from, where he was going to hide out until the heat of the murders settled down and where he laid his head down at night.

He didn't think about the repercussions; they weren't fucking, after all. She was his owner, and she was hurt. He did what any kind of responsible human being would do. He wouldn't let her just lay there and suffer. Besides, it didn't matter what others thought. Wade was far past that, by the way; he had a collar around his neck and was treated more like a dog in a cage than a human being. He'd deal with it all in his own time.

"What can't you do?" He asked, sitting down next to her bed and leaving the pack of hot cloths next to Abigail, figuring she probably wanted to do it herself. Fair enough.

Again, it felt like someone was playing around with his guts. He'd never had anxiety before, but he was sure in this place he'd developed it. He looked like absolute garbage, sunken eyes, deep dark bags under them and looking like he could pass out any moment. He was more concerned for Abigail. His heart was beating just a little bit faster, his hands wrung together in worry and he glanced at her for a moment.

"You're all I have." He almost whispered, "The only person I called a 'friend' here died today. Please don't leave me..." It was a desperate plea, but he didn't know what he'd do without her. He'd probably be dead by now. Any other owner would have given up on him long ago.

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allbusiness
2009-07-14 02:51 am UTC (link)

Was she really thinking about giving up? When she dropped her gaze from the ceiling and looked over toward Wilson, seeing him wring his hands together, brow knitted in worry, she felt like shit. She wanted to leave now, take the money that she had already earned. It was more than enough to live modestly for at least a decade; if she invested it, it could probably last her the rest of her life. But she wanted to take him with her, too. Buying his freedom would take more time than she was prepared to invest, and if Revolve kept going this way, it might take more time than she actually had left.

She sighed again, resisting the urge to yell and merely said, “This, Wilson. All of this.” She looked pointedly at his collar, the bed she was in, the cuts along her arms, before looking back at the ceiling again, in no mood to start to wash herself off. It was a terrible analogy, but she felt like Jackie Kennedy. Letting the blood dry on her skin made things more real, like she wasn’t hiding from the truth.

As he spoke, she kept her gaze on him, biting gently on her bottom lip to keep from crying again. She had claimed she didn’t want a friendly relationship with him, that even he calling her Abigail made her uncomfortable, but watching him now made her realize the truth. She did want that.

She moved her arm back to push herself up, but when she shifted her weight, pain shooting up from her wrist made her catch her breath in her throat and fall back on the pillow. Pressing her eyes together, she winced for a moment, holding her breath, before letting it out shakily. She wanted to promise him she would stay for him no matter what, but in all honesty, she couldn’t. “As long as you keep making money,” she began, finding comfort in business, “I’ll never leave.”

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-14 03:35 am UTC (link)

"You and fighting are all I have, I should say. And this other mutant, Violet. She's a great gal, really." He offered a small laugh but it was rather cold, and somewhat distant. "So you'll be fine. I'll fight until I almost die, then they'll put me back together again and I'll fight some more."

Wade didn't think a lot about his mortality anymore, partially because it was a rather uncomfortable thought and partially because when he was diagnosed with cancer he'd imagined one night he'd go to bed and he just wouldn't wake up again. Painless. He didn't think he'd wind up in a place like this where people paid to see him hurt and kill others, and be hurt himself. This place wasn't fair, but he was a mutant, a monster, and he apparently didn't deserve rights.

"This place isn't something that should keep us together, but if you were to leave, seriously leave, put me up for sale and get out of here I'd never see of hear from you again. I think it's like an all or nothing deal. You're either in, or you aren't. At least at the end of the day you can go home, have a job, have a family if you ever wanted. You think I'm ever going to have children here? I'm going to be killed one day for someone else's amusement. In a way... those mutants that were killed in the Block collapse were lucky." His voice was shaky near the end; Mao hadn't deserved to die but he deserved better than here, and to Wade, death was better than here.

"What were you doing in Blue Block, Abigail? You've never come to visit me in my cell unless it was bad news and I changed blocks well before..." Was she replacing him with new blood? A surge of jealousy shot through him but he tried his best to ignore it.

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allbusiness
2009-07-14 05:13 am UTC (link)

Her fighter had a great gal? She assumed he would make friends, maybe even find someone special here, but she didn’t expect he would find a ‘great gal.’ The alliteration made it that much more cutesy. He seemed too crazy for that, really. Truth be told, she felt a twinge of jealousy that carried into her voice when she asked, “Who’s this Violet person?”

What he said next didn’t make her jealous, but she started to feel mad at him. She felt guilty for it, like she shouldn’t feel mad at someone who quite literally carried her to a bed in the medical ward, but he stepped over the line. “Stop, just stop,” she said, not swayed by the lack of strength in his voice. She pushed herself up again, using her other hand primarily but leaving a small trail of blood on the bed sheet, and used pillows to prop herself up. She couldn’t tell him that one day he wouldn’t be killed, because honestly, he had come pretty close more than once. And he was right. One of these days, he’d come up against someone in a death match and come out the loser. She didn’t know what she would do after that, whether or not she would leave or just buy someone else. That thought of how replaceable he was surprised her.

“Just don’t,” she paused, looking away, trying to figure out what exactly to get mad at him for, “Don’t compare us.” It was more than the difference in their genetics; they were fundamentally different, born in completely different situations, growing into completely different people. Apples and machine guns, basically. “And don’t – you’re the lucky one, not the dead. If you were dead,” she looked down, but not wanting to get sentimental, she continued, “You’re not. Even if you don’t actually mean it, pretend you value your life. It makes me feel better, like you’re not a lost cause who will one of these days just give up.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t move her gaze from him when he questioned her. She had nothing to hide. “I was looking at new fighters, actually,” she explained matter-of-factly, “With Sophia.” ‘Who’s dead now,’ she nearly added. “She is – was in the market for a fighter and wanted my advice. Because apparently I can pick ‘em.” She smirked.

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-14 05:07 pm UTC (link)

If Wade knew women, he might have picked up on the jealous way Abigail asked who Violet was, but he didn't, since he never had time to date and it completely went over his head. Even the thought that Abigail might be jealous of another woman Wade talked to didn't even cross his mind. After all, she was a professional and could get someone much better than Wade.

"She's a Blue Blocker. Tattoos that glow and these amazing violet eyes. She's a nice girl... I met her in the blue block cafeteria while I was still healing from my spinal injury. They made her fight Python a couple days ago, the guy who tried to break my back." He frowned a little. "Anyone that would make a woman fight is the kind of man I'd kill. Makes me sick, you know? Who can put a woman in an arena with an insane man like that? Let the men fight. Sure, the women have abilities. Doesn't mean they should be roughed up or anything. I think its wrong. But that's me."

He frowned when she chastised him; Wade wasn't really one to think before he spoke, which got him into some interesting situations more than once. "I'm uh, I'm sorry... I wasn't trying to compare us. We're total opposites." He laughed just a little. "And Abigail, honestly, I'm not lucky. Yeah, I was lucky I was out exercising when this went down but the only way off this rock is through death and well... I read my health report the other day. Not only did my mutation stop the spread of cancer cells that I did still have when I arrived at Revolve but the mutation... well. It obliterated the cancer cells completely. I'm starting to wonder if my aging has slowed and now I'm just rambling."

He listened to her for a while, smiling when she said her friend had been looking for advice about fighters. "Nah, you just got lucky with me." He teased, trying to keep everything light now. They were both upset, but they needed each other right now, and Wade was going to care for his owner not because he felt he had to, but because Abigail was well, Abigail, and she'd been there for him when his back was healing.

"You're going to be fine, Abigail. I promise. You and I will know each other for a long time." He offered another soft smile and then sighed. "So, I got a job." He said with a shrug, "Figured I should get out a little more and entertain other than just in the arena. And no, I am not a sideshow at the amusement park in case you were going to ask. I'm a bartender now. If there's anything I know, its swords and booze."

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allbusiness
2009-07-15 08:25 am UTC (link)

‘Amazing violet eyes’ and ‘nice girl’ would have been enough to make Abigail laugh at him and tell him not to get anyone pregnant, but she recognized the girl’s features and nearly choked on her own breath when she gasped. It took her a minute, enough time for him to get close to finishing his ramblings (honestly, she was starting to ignore half of what he said), but she cut him off, “No shit? Violet eyes?” How big was this island? Out of all the fighters, he had to develop a crush on that one.

“Remember about a month ago, when that girl freaked out and teleported random people away from the island?” She asked quickly. She hadn’t mentioned it to him before, choosing to ignore it and pretend it never happened, but apparently now was the time. “I ended up with that girl you’re talking about on some pirate ship.” She wanted to add that the other woman was unsavory, to say the least, with a few other more colorful descriptors, but she managed to ask incredulously, “You’re friends with her?” Well, judging by the way she dressed and her fighter’s cluelessness when it came to women, she should have expected it.

When he said the only path to freedom was death, she raised a finger, opening her mouth to speak, but he continued, rambling about his health. She lowered her finger, raising her eyebrows and waited for him to finish. “That’s not true, you know. You can buy your freedom. Even I could buy your freedom. I’m not sure how it goes after that, but I do know it’s possible.”

Despite what he said, she did like to think that her investment in his future was more than a lucky guess. She had researched the competition, the new faces, and had taken more than a couple risks with him, but honestly, she couldn’t imagine spending this amount of time with any of the other fighters. Most of them didn’t last very long, but worse yet, some of them were murderers rather than people forced to kill. She doubted she could ever get comfortable around a person who might lunge at her at any moment.

At his promise, she returned his smile but tried not to wonder what he meant by it. She laughed when he shared his job, saying, “I was going to ask that, actually!” Her eyes widened slightly, though, when he mentioned the bar. “Wait a minute – I go there. You couldn’t have gotten a job at the coffee shop or something? Where am I going to escape from you now?” She quirked an eyebrow and asked with a joking expression, “Does this mean I can reduce your cut?”

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-15 02:45 pm UTC (link)

He raised an eyebrow at Abigail's reaction, but nodded. "Yeah, that's what I said. Violet eyes." And at the admission she'd actually been teleported somewhere, Wade snorted a little and laughed. "Abigail..." He laughed, "Abigail, tell me you had a good time. Why didn't you ever tell me! I could have used this hilarious story when I was going stir-crazy in the medical ward with my back. I never told you I got transported Feudal Japan and almost got my ass served by ancient Samurai warriors, did I? Luckily, my Sensai is from a long line of Samurai warriors; just had to tell them that name and they didn't decide to send me back in pieces." He said with a grin.

He watched a doctor breeze by them and wondered how long it'd be before they checked Abigail out. His instinct said just grab one of the doctors but that might get him kicked out of the medical ward. He just wanted Abigail looked at and confirm that it was really nothing more than bruises and scrapes... nothing looked broken.

"Don't tease me with the thought of buying freedom." He frowned a little. "Its more than I could ever hope to make here and a lot more than I'd ever be able to ask of you. Plus I'd probably get back and wind up working at the GAP wearing polo shirts and khakis, or picking up golf balls at a course somewhere." He said with a smile, trying to show Abigail that he'd pretty much settled with the facts that yes, he was a mutant, yes, fighting was all he was really good at, and yes, he was going to live and die here. That was going to be his life now, and he supposed he had come to terms with it because he couldn't be miserable his entire life.

He had a good time when Abigail was around, even if they got off on the wrong foot. She made him laugh, and he tried his best to make her laugh, and it eased his mind and made him feel... well, sane when she laughed and smiled at him like that. It also made him go a little stupid, because he'd recently realized how attracted he was to her, but he tried his best to ignore it.

"I won't bug you at the bar, I promise. You'll be Miss and I'll get you wine. But you'll have to come out for the night I'm planning for the guests. Hawaiian luau night!" He said with a big grin. "Pina coladas, mai tai's, drinks inside coconuts and I'm trying to get permission for a fire dance performance. They said they'd shoot me if I tried to burn the place down. I promised I wouldn't, and they're considering it. Now I just need some girls to do that whole traditional dance with the grass skirts and some glasses that look like tikis." He laughed, sitting up a little straighter now, proud that he was doing something fun and worth while.

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allbusiness
2009-07-16 04:30 am UTC (link)

She laughed, raising her eyebrows at his story. She thought that most people were teleported, not transported through time, but then again, if anyone would end up getting sent back to feudal Japan, it would be Wilson. “I had a terrible time,” she shared, almost breathlessly, finally able to get it off her chest. “The guard I was with was shot with a cannonball, and I lost my shoes, and that Violet girl basically stripped for the crew.” She straightened up again, as if she were excited and perhaps a bit proud to share, “I held a gun to the captain’s head. Violet pushed someone off the side. And I’m pretty sure she ripped out someone’s earring.” Settling back down again, she smirked slightly and said, “But feudal Japan? That’s – that’s exciting, Wilson.”

While he may have accepted his fate, Abigail didn’t seem to wrap her head around the idea. She had been here long enough to see new people rise and fall, in more than just a metaphorical way, but the idea that her fighter would fall? It was still foreign to her. “I’m not teasing,” she insisted, thinking that if he had a goal to work toward, one more achievable than perpetually moving up blocks, it would be easier for him to stay sane. After all, the guards kept her in the loop, and she knew about his mood swings and insomnia, to put it lightly. It would be hard not to go crazy in this place, but even if it seemed like he was getting better, she had no idea about his psychological health. She had thought more than once to fly a psychiatrist for him. Instead of dwelling on it, she let it go and smiled, adding, “You could be my secretary. That might be a step up from beating people with rocks.”

“Miss?” She repeated questioningly. “As in, ‘here’s your wine, Miss Redel?’ I think I’d have a heart attack.” After she said it, she had a moment where she realized that she was being fun. He was laughing! She wasn’t very charming or approachable, especially when she had business on her mind. On the island, she became naïve; most people looked at her and scoffed at her lack of ‘knowledge’ about the ‘way things worked.’ She had been hearing that far too often. But with him, she felt comfortable; she was even being funny. If they had met in different circumstances, who knew what would have happened? Maybe he would have ended up as a real friend, not as her property.

A doctor finally approached the two, stopping at Abigail’s bedside, with a guard soon to join him. The doctor appeared stressed and frazzled, but he gave his best smile and an explanation, “There was a mix-up with one of the guests, who ended up being a mutant. So, while I’m examining you, Miss Redel, please allow this gentleman to test your blood.” Abigail was a little surprised and flattered that she was starting to get recognized around here, but she figured she had been in the medical bay long enough to warrant that. The guard reached down, picking up her wrist, but she winced, inhaling sharply. Frowning slightly, the doctor took her arm, pressing his fingers along her skin, before assuring her, “It’s not broken. We’ll take an X-Ray to make sure, but you might have to wait for that. This,” he gestured to the cut along her arm, “will need stitches. The rest of your scrapes,” he again gestured, this time to her legs, “just need to be cleaned out and bandaged.” He offered a smile, reaching over and grabbing the pack of towels that Wilson had retried earlier. While he started cleaning off her arm, the guard asked her to extend her finger, pricking it with a small device and concluding, “You’re clear. Thank you, Miss Redel.”

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mercenary_wade
2009-07-20 05:09 pm UTC (link)

"Sounds like something out of a book." He laughed, shaking his head a little bit. "So what did you two do then, take over the pirate ship while you were there or something?" He asked, cocking his head to the side some and still wearing that small smile on his lips. "Sounds like you had a lot more fun than I did. I tried to smuggle some katanas back but when we were transported I guess I lost them somehow. I strapped them to my back like how I used to carry my original pair, but they didn't make it back with me." He said with a shrug. "No loss though, I did steal them." Because well, they'd have a Hell of a time trying to explain what a credit card was in 13th century Japan.

"Your secretary?" He asked with raised eyebrows. "I thought after all we've been through here you'd take me back and stick me in an insane asylum or something." He laughed softly, though he had no idea that the guards so candidly shared what Wade went through at night. He didn't know how much they heard; sometimes he was just restless, rolling around under the sheets a little, not able to get comfortable. Sometimes he was screaming bloody murder though, gripping his sheets and just howling at the memories; Wade wondered if Abigail knew about the night after the Sudden Death match where they had to bring in a doctor to drug him. He was in a full blown panic attack; he couldn't breathe, he was terrified and screaming don't leave me in here and then when he woke up it was the next day and the nightmare was behind him.

He nodded though at her questions, "Why would me being polite give you a heart attack? I know I'm not very... gentlemanly but look at where I am. Its not like I'm ever going to get dressed up in a three piece suit or have a life or a real job. But I'll try. I'm not about to embarrass you if you bring your friends by. I'll pretend like I don't know you. You know. So you can be comfortable at the bar and everything. I won't bug you or anything." And he wouldn't, because Abigail needed her privacy when she was on the island, and if it came down to Wade pretending she was just another human and he was just another human's servant, he'd do it. Though if any man tried any one thing inappropriate...

The guard that came in stared Wade down and Wade looked right back, though there was nothing showing in his eyes for once. Not fear, and not hate. He was blank. He didn't hate all guards, just most of them. He winced though when he said she needed stitches, recalling once when he'd had to stitch himself up; the scar was long gone but he ached when he thought about it. Luckily here they were much more well equipped then Wade had been.

"You can squeeze my hand if you want when they stitch you up." He offered with a small smile. "And stop calling me 'Wilson' people are going to think that's my first name and that's an awful first name." He looked to the doctor; he was one of the ones that was on watch one night during his recovery and the older man gave Wade a nod and the fighter gave a small smile in return. The doctors weren't all biased here, either.

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allbusiness
2009-07-21 08:12 am UTC (link)

She had just told him that a woman ripped out a pirate’s earring – that she, a proper businesswoman with a Blackberry and a pair of Christian Louboutin heels, had held a gun to someone’s head, and he reacted by laughing? She was disappointed. Settling back even further, she listened to his story patiently, finding her interest draining. When he mentioned his katanas, though, she started thinking. “Do you think you’re a better fighter with them?” She asked, wondering if she found the right opponent and made a proper argument, that she could get him to fight with swords. That seemed more entertaining than seeing two men throw fists at each other until one of them got tired and gave up.

The guards were candid, and only because she asked. She knew how to get people talking, and it certainly wasn’t because she knew how to bat her eyelashes. They were frank with her, telling her more than she wanted to know, really, and often, she stopped them before they had finished. She avoided hearing about the doctor’s story that way. Usually, she just wanted an idea of his health, something to take note of in her notebook and move on. She hadn’t been looking for a project when she first picked him, but she had bought her way into it. She shrugged softly, wondering if, “You’re practically in one already.”

She didn’t know why she had such a gut reaction to it, but immediately she said, “No, you can’t pretend not to know me.” She often exaggerated his faults, pretended to be annoyed by him (although sometimes she wasn’t pretending), but really, she could only imagine how frustrating it would be for him to serve her drinks and pretend not to know her, when they both knew that he could barely stand to hold his tongue. “You can say hello,” she said, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes at him.

When he offered his hand to squeeze, she raised her eyebrows and looked quickly at the doctor, who had finished disinfecting her arm with a diluted solution. “You’re not going to give me anesthesia?” She asked quickly. The doctor shook his head softly, saying, “Not today. We’re running low, and you really won’t need it. The injection for the anesthesia is more painful than the procedure.” He picked up forceps with the suture already grasped, and looked at her for a moment, checking. She gave a soft nod, looking down at her arm, but when he brought the suture to her skin, she looked away, inhaling sharply.

It was more painful than she had guessed, but probably less than her fighter had let on. She donated blood before, gotten it drawn for tests, but the feeling wasn’t entirely comparable; if the needle were moved around in her skin, then maybe it would be. She wanted to get her mind off of it. “People?” She repeated, looking over at him, before asking, her question broken up by a soft wince, “Who’s going to - think that?”

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