Wade was not known for the gift of subtly. Rather, he was known for walking into a den of thieves with a flashing neon sign strapped to his chest clearly spelling out his intentions. Today though was different. Things around the mansion had been boring ever since Mood-Killer-Kitty (Now with kung-fu action grip!) had taken to spoiling all of his fun. The merc was on thin ice and he knew it. So when an opportunity to help out presented itself? Of course he'd jump at the chance. The only hitch in the plan was that he hadn't been asked to help. "You do a little eavesdropping and suddenly the big man paints you as the bad guy. Sheesh. No respect." Wade mimed tightening a tie much like Rodney Dangerfield. It wasn't until he remembered he had a tie that he actually tightened it.
Wade was decked out in his best clubbing gear: A tuxedo-print t-shirt, a piano key neck tie, a pair of cargo shorts, and flip-flops. Wade lifted the shutter-shade glasses higher on his head and scanned the clubbers. The image inducer clipped to his belt was projecting the visage of a normal-well bit man; his former self. He pressed his way through the crowd, searching for the xavier operative he heard one of the faculty mention. He passed by the pool tables and whistled at the green haired hustler before he zeroed in on the chick in tight leather. "Riddle me this, riddle me that.. what kinda dumb slag would go dancing in that?"
He had to be casual. He had to be suave. So Deadpool cabbagepatch-ed his way over, throwing in a little decorative "dice throwing" to sell him image. He eased himself into the seat next to her's. "I don't normally do this kind of thing often." The merc scratched the back of his head in the mockery of an embarrassed gesture. "Usually my secret meetings take place at Denny's. So pardon any faux pas but your tits look banging for a chick undercover. Got my glock half cocked already. Care to help me fire that round?"