"Really? Would it make a good chowder? Chowder. Shhhh-owder. Chowdare. Hee." A faux French accent drifted in and our at he played around with the phonetics of the word. That just happened to be a hobby of his; like breaking thumbs. Or collecting Troll dolls.
Deadpool supplied the DJ with a set of the horns like he was at a metal concert when the song switched over. He quickly steered the woman onto the floor dance floor, singing along in indecipherable spanish. In all his life, Wade would have never guessed the dance lessons he picked up would be useful. James Bond he was not. But here, they seemed ready to burst forth and he was certain everyone would bow down to his superior dance skills fresh from the 90's. Let it never be said he didn't know how to bring the noise and or funk.
"Then we shall put them to shame! If we're lucky we may see some tears tonight. B-O-O H-O-O!" Deadpool grinned and looked around for a subject to pick on. "I spy with my little eye.." Oooo, peacock. "Maybe the peacock will be so upset it'll walk into traffic? Query! How do peacocks taste? Is it like peas? Or chicken? Or dare I say it, Heston have mercy on me, Soylent Green? I hear it's people y'know." The merc took her hand and spun her on the floor and brought her in close. Then they proceeded to tango to Reggaeton. Wade was never one for social conventions. "Take that society!"