Getting stabbed through the chest by some kind of mutant girl with finger-lengthening skills sounded interesting, but Wade did tune out on the whole 'Wahh-wahhh, I miss my wife and child.' part of things. He was currently without the ability to father children to the best of his knowledge. Or if he could? It wasn't something he was actively trying to do. Mostly he was enjoying getting laid as often as he could with the freakiest fucks he could find. He didn't have any complaints at all in that department as far as Test City was concerned. Wait. He was supposed to be telling the whole 'Dog of War' guy something about himself. Wade tried to think how he could sum up his story. He shoved a lime in his mouth to grip it between his teeth, smiling around it to show off a green grin, and then cut off his left hand with his katana before anyone realized he'd removed it from its holster on his back.
Wade casually scraped the hand to the floor where it began to creep away until he skewered it with his sword. He spit the lime into his hand to toss away into the pile he was amassing on the table. By the time he'd poured himself another serving of tequila his hand had already grown back so he waggled his fingers at his drinking buddy. It seemed the polite thing to do. Wade wasn't big on polite, but he could be decent about social graces if he were given the proper motivation. Baby was his current motivation so he needed to get drunk, very, very drunk, and it was never fun to drink alone which made this guy useful. More or less.
"I was a government experiment. I have a mutant ability to adapt. They gave me a few other handy toys. One of them was a healing factor from a guy who can't die. I can't die now since it adapted to my ability. I regenerate like a starfish only my dick is way bigger. It makes me insane. Criminally and clinically. I've got papers. Brain is always rerouting itself and yeah, it's not nearly as interesting to me as stabby-fingers-lady. She didn't come with you, did she? She sounds like fun."
Murderers were usually fun in Wade's opinion. Their lack of a standard moral compass made them great for parties. Not that he ever threw parties. It was a common saying. He was only borrowing it since it was the most useful one he could think of at the moment. Given how fast he thought? It was saying something. Wade chewed on some limes while ignoring his amputated hand's attempts to escape from the blade stuck through it. His life was weird. He figured it might take the guy a little while to catch up to him. Even really smart people tended to need a little time to adjust to Wade Wilson. There was only so much crazy the average person could handle before they started gibbering or talking about how they had to be in a dream or some shit.