Pixie and Deadpool
“I know,” he gasped. “Yellow is such an atrocious color, but you know what’s worse than yellow,” Wade paused only for a quick second before answering his own question. “Green. No one looks good in green, trust me,” he insisted. The phone was pocketed in one of his many leather, yellow pouches that lined his utility belt.
“You should really just make your own. I mean, as superheroes, we are gifted with the innate ability to sew. I made this beauty.” Hands were drawn to where his hips were, and rested them there, while jutting a hip off to one side. It was a quick pose, and perhaps a slow spin around the heels of his boots.
“What,” his voice had inched a few octaves as she revealed the fact that she was not being chaperoned. This was getting even better! “Chyea, I’ll sit by you guys!” He leaned a little in her direction, giving her a scrutinizing gaze that was hidden behind a mask. “You’re not on a date with some loser, right? Because you can blow everyone away when I walk in with you. Don’t worry, I won’t try to kiss you or anything.” What the hell is the plan?
“Plan,” he asked himself, a hand motioning for Pixie to come follow him. “What’s like your codename? Tinkerbell?”