It didn't take long for Wade to finish consuming the rest of his twinkies and drain the remnants of his juice box. There was an unceremonious moment when he belched that really killed the mood. Wade gripped the bottom of the mask where it had rested on the bridge of his nose. In a fluid motion he pulled it back down, hiding the scarred flesh on his chin and lips that had been visible momentarily. When Ororo started her questions again, he turned to the white haired headmistress. "Cause I couldn't find anyone to pay me to stalk Nicki Minaj. That booty. If it helps, I also run a pet sitting service. 'Course there ain't been much business since that 60 Minutes special." Wade seemed baffled by that turn of events.
The merc tossed the trash away and moved about the medical quarters looking at all manner of torture devices instruments. He hated rooms like this but he was quite certain Fraiser wouldn't let him wander the rest of the subbasement alone. Maybe he could snag some of the good drugs for Weasel. "Something like that." Wade almost sounded bitter at the mention of his healing factor. The horrors Weapon X subjected him too still gave him the jeebies. With a big heapin' helpin' of the heebies. It would have been more humane to let him die in that rubble.
"From our romantic comedy Wade and Leopold. It was a huge flop." The merc finally moved back over to the table and picked up his top. He pulled it on over his head and settled it in place. "Wolvie and I go way back. Served together in the army before he left and got all blinged out." And maybe one of them had decapitated the others; a favor Wade was more than willing to repay. Not like they needed to know that. "I was sad to hear that hundred plus pounds of metal didn't improve his attitude. He couldn't appreciate the finer things in life like women, jokes and whoopie cushions."