2013-01-05 Is it a Loo or a Palace?

So it's sometime around, oh, probably eleven PM. A weeknight. It snowed earlier, but got warm, so the streets are unpleasantly slushy outside; there's honking in the canyons the buildings here make, despite the signs posted about a $250 fine for the offense. Somewhere below, mostly inaudible from the distance with the windows closed, there's also a band on a street corner, all wearing high-water boots and playing reggae versions of Doors songs.
And there's also a BZAKT-ZWOORP from poor Warren Worthington's master bathroom. And then confused-as-hell voices, one of which is faintly familiar and decidedly British. "Shit, do you think he-- this isn't a loo it's a bloody palace--"
Lunair's already quietly sworn off chai. She's kind of stunned mostly, that she avoided getting zorched by Doom or what have you. Her head is spinning at all of this. Thankfully, it's not literal. "... I don't know. I hope he's okay but um. Wow." This - Lunair's pretty wealthy but this tops that easily. Her eyes are a bit wide now, and she stays near Pete. "Well. Nothing's trying to kill us yet." She always does her best to look on the bright side, though being baffled hides her usually dazed look. Her voice is not British at all - it's the quietly neutral sort of midwestern accent so coveted by radio announcers. She peers around. "... maybe it knew you wanted a shower."
He wasn't in bed yet, so Warren isn't roused from sleep by the voices suddenly in his master bath. The fact, though, that there are sudden voices do cause him a bit of alarm and he gets up from watching television to grab a rather large knife from the kitchen before beginning his investigation. Quietly, very quietly, he pads through his bedroom to the master bath before the door is swung open and he's standing there, brandishing the knife.
"Who are you and why the Hell are you in my bathroom?"
"Fucking hell!" Pete startles, stepping in front of Lunair pretty automatically, looking like an unmade bed. Well, wearing a suit, and the SUIT looks like an unmade bed. A /cheap/ suit. Also his hair's a mess. He looks like he was sleeping in the trunk of someone's car. But he holds his hands up. "Sorry! Uh. Warren Worthington? Yes. Sorry! No, I mean-- Pete Wisdom. Agent of SHIELD. Obviously-- not here in an official capacity. Here on accident really. Someone teleported us. Out of hell. To here. Don't do that. With the knife. Please."
Yet was the key word there. Her eyes widen a bit, seeing the man come in with a knife. Lunair jerks, startled. Her hand twitches, as if she's about to call up a weapon - but stops herself. She looks kind of bad, too. Well, surprisingly GOOD for someone who had a couch land on her - but regardless, it's a rumpled duo that greets him. "Um. I'm really sorry. I picked the safest looking way out..." It beats some of the alternatives, and she politely holds her hands up, too. "My name is Lunair. I had a couch fall on me." She states simply, quietly. "... and the teleporting thing happened." She's wondering if maybe it was an interdimensional couch bomb. She hates those. "I apologize for ending up in your bathroom." Yeah, there we go.
Warren looks between the two, his eyes narrowing some and his wings flared some with adrenaline. He does listen to their stories and doesn't outright dismiss anything, but he does demand, "Badge. Show me your badge." He's seen enough cop shows to know that he needs to see some sort of proof.
Instantly, Pete's patting down his pockets; one of them appears to be dripping what looks like water on Warren's bathroom floor. He finally reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out his wallet, then flips it open, revealing his SHIELD ID and badge; he offers the wallet to Warren. "We've met, mate, we met outside that cafe, where that shapeshifter was attacking the gobby barista with the chelsea girl hair? I was there with Agent Harper-- and yeah Luna here *did* have a couch drop on her out of fucking nowhere, do you have a first aid kit?"
Lunair looks somewhat relieved that Warren hasn't gone all stabbity shankity on them. "I'm okay for now, really..." She thinks. She's not really sure, honestly. "... though it was an ugly couch." D'oh! She's a bit wry in the face of such cosmic punishment. She goes quiet as Pete explains that they'd met.
The knife lowers as Warren looks at the id and badge...he doesn't even need to take the wallet and look closer. "Oh, right. That cafe. Where I was tossed aside and completely dissed due to the presence of attractive women. And this is supposed to help warm me up to you as you suddenly appear in my bathroom?" At the question about the first aid kit, his gaze shifts to Lunair, "You're ok for now? What does that mean?" There's another pause before he steps aside, gesturing for them to come out of the bathroom, "First Aid kit's in the kitchen." He points his fingers at his eyes and then at Pete's.
Wisdom's wallet goes back in his pocket, and he glances down at his dripping suit jacket. "Ah-- I wasn't there for that bit, I was outside taking care of the tentacled bloke. I do apologise for Harper, though, he's quite rude. And *always* dismisses non-hostile blokes not offering him alcohol. I'm-- here, it's a holy-water-filled watergun in my pocket, I don't want to drip all over your floor, so I'm going to take it out and put it in your sink, I'm not drawing a weapon on you." Very, very carefully, in full view, he does just that -- and yes, it's got bright orange parts to it, it's clearly not a real gun. And then just as carefully, he starts to move out and follow Warren, lightly touching Luna's elbow on the way. "I don't care if you think you're all right, love, your head's got blood on it."
Blink. She frowns. "I'm sorry. You seem like a nice guy," She offers. And his wings? Pretty cool. Lunair looks sympathetic. The thing about drain bamage is most of the patients either get fighty or don't figure on that they're that hurt. She pauses. "..." At the blood on her head remark, she touches her face. Oh. Huh. "So I do," She considers quietly. Blink. Maybe it was all of that adrenaline. All the distractions. The people in the car and - yeah. DOOOOOOOOOOM. "I can get rid of that," Lunair offers and in a moment, the holy water water gun just - vanishes. "Sorry, I forgot you still had it," She admits. She smiles at the elbow touch and nods. "I'll stay where people would feel safest, I guess." She's kind of used to this whole people being freaked out by her WITHOUT her busting into their bathrooms. As for Warren's question, she pauses. "I'm not sure." Huh. She probably didn't notice the dampness on her head. Yick. "It's probably just a scratch."
The loft penthouse is pretty open once one leaves the Master Suite. Moving to the kitchen, Warren puts the knife away and gets out the kit from inside a drawer and gestures for the two to sit down. "So...-how- did you end up in my bathroom again? And why did a couch fall on you?" He gets out some antiseptic and cleaner before moving over to Lunair to dab at the injury, "I just want to see how bad it is...If it's pretty bad, I can probably fix it for you." He does his best to keep his wings out of the way as he glances around them to Pete, "Why do you have a toy gun filled with holy water? Were you fighting vampires?"
 
"It was these portals Deadpool was opening up from hell or wherever we were, and the one apparently leading to your bathroom was the safest one," Wisdom offers, running his hands through his hair, then gingerly sitting on Warren's nice kitchen chair. He clasps his hands loosely between his knees. "And no, demons. Which were surprisingly less of a pain in the ass to deal with than vampires." He's watching Warren deal with Luna's head, mostly.
Lunair watches the two, and she'll sit down where Warren gestures them. She looks a little wide-eyed at it all. Maybe she's just dazed. It's hard to tell with that thousand yard stare on. She hesitates, as he approaches, watching a little uneasily. Still, she nods and doesn't bolt. Not a fan of medical attention, it seems. "... I don't know. I was sitting, reading, drinking some chai and being normal..." This seems to be something she's desperately striving for. "... then my head hurts like crazy and there's people coming out of a car nearby. Deadpool, too," She admits. "It must be really cool to have wings..." She peers over. Seriously. She stays still - and really, it's not a huge, omg horrible wound but she got dented pretty nicely. It was an ugly couch, after all. She doesn't reveal how he got the gun or why she made it disappear just yet. "Then - yeah, all those portals... I didn't have much time to really peek in, and I shoved poor Pete into this one, so technically, it'd be my doing really," She admits.
"You're going to be checking to make sure that there are no more of those...portals leading into my bathroom before you leave. I don't need demons suddenly appearing in here, thank you very much." Warren is careful as he looks to the wound, "I don't know...what do you think? Think that you'll be ok? I mean, I can heal it up, but...kind of don't like doing it unless it's close to life-threatening or worse..." he offers the gauze for her to press up against it to stop bleeding.
 
"... I have no idea how the portals work," Pete says with an apologetic grimace. "I mean, hell, Doom showed up there, too. And Mystique. She was driving the car that crashed in. And I woke up in the trunk of it, I honestly have no idea who put me there. It was all terribly confusing. The demon was trying to get Deadpool to agree to be a prince of Hell, and maybe that's how he ended up being able to make portals?" Wisdom's hands lift and make vague gestures of 'search me'. "And for fuck's sake, I hate having to say this sort of thing with a straight face. Or at all." Then -he- glances at Luna, rubbing his nose with one hand. That-all is entirely her call.
Hmm. Lunair looks thoughtful. "Well, I don't know how they worked, myself. But there weren't any demons besides the one trying to get us to work for him," She admits. She looks to Warren. "Um. I don't feel like I'm dying..." She offers. "I Guess as long as it's clean and covered, it should be okay." Smile. "There's always 911 or 24 hour clinic if I feel any worse," Handwave. She'll spare poor Warren. She might be a vaguely loopy assassin, but there's a heart in there. "And yeah, I think Deadpool like, ate or breathed in the demon after we blew it up, " She considers. She looks a little uncertain. "I'm more used to stuff with bad guys that aren't all supernaturally... To be frank, I was shocked trying to do something normal like read and have some chai ends up getting me couched into the next dimension."
"I don't know who this 'Deadpool' or 'Mystique' are," Warren offers before he steps back, giving Lunair a little space. "I'm kind of afraid that I asked, to tell you the truth. However, I'm a guy with giant-ass wings on my back so I kind of have no place to talk." He looks back to Pete, "Did you get a couch dropped on your head too?"
"Not I," Pete says, now rubbing his whole face with both hands and slouching more comfortably into the chair. "Woke up in the trunk of a car which apparently Mystique -- who's a blue woman that was fairly angry about having gotten blued not on purpose -- stole? After she crashed it through a portal uptown. Erm. We're still in New York, right?" He looks resigned to the answer being something like 'in which universe?' but asks anyway. "They -are- quite lovely wings. I can't fly, I can only fall with dramatic style."
"Deadpool's a mercenary." She's trying to think about how to explain. She smiles a little at Warren. "It is all pretty odd. So much for trying normal people stuff... it just gets me squished," Lunair is somewhat wry about it all. She pauses. "Hey, I think the wings are pretty neat. Like those old statues with the giant warrior dudes in Babylon." Old school badass. "I can't fly, and I'd go splat if I fell," She admits. Lunair has no recourse for gravity. To Warren, she pauses. "Ah, no worries." She'll be content with a bandage/gauze and clean. She looks a bit dazed, but really.
"Well," Warren points out as he listens to the descriptions of who the other two were and...more weird stuff, "It's a good thing that there's an elevator to go down. I wouldn't expect everyone to be able to just fly out of here. That, and it's cold." He looks between the two, "Do you want me to call you a car or something? Or did you want to hang out in my bathroom some more?"
"-- a car would be *brilliant*," Pete says hastily, hauling himself upright. Because the reminder of the bathroom is a reminder of how absolutely awkward this whole situation is, really. His ears are red from the embarrassment. "And again. We're both awfully sorry for having disturbed you. It was utterly unintentional. And it's a very nice bathroom."
It's hard not to giggle a bit at the idea of the bathroom being a happening place. She looks sheepish, turning red. "Yeah... I'm really sorry we scared you," She admits. "If I had more time to pick a less creepy portal..." She bites her lower lip a little. "Thank you for your help." And not stabbing or shooting them. Definitely a plus. Lunair is quiet now, shutting down for a bit and looking to the floor. "... and it um, is a nice bathroom."
"Do you want to see the Guest Bathroom? It's not as nice and only a half-bath, but if it's of particular interest..." Warren grins but then reaches for his phone to call up the car. "It should be here soon." Yeah, awkward situation here. "Do...you all want something to drink or something? I...think I have something that's not booze somewhere."
 
"Uh-- well booze is always fine-- but, are you sure? We can get out of your hair-- I'm just grateful you didn't stab us," Wisdom says, weight shifting from one foot to the other, giving Lunair an uncertain look. Like, you decide, you're the nice one. That sort of look.
It's sort of bad when the busted up teenage assassin is the 'nicer' one. Lunair smiles faintly. There's an amused look. "I think- water or soda is fine. I'm off chai a bit. I seem to get shot or hit by furniture when I drink it," She notes wryly. "You have been far nicer to use than you need to be, and I appreciate it." She hesitates. This is not her best skill. Social skills - she's catching up on them. "We appreciate the car, too. And um, I'm alright on bathrooms for now." Handwave. "I think I'll be fine going home and avoiding flying furniture." Pause. She hesitates. This is hard. "I owe you tea sometime, anyway. For the no stabbings and helping me out. Or - I guess people like booze more..." Hmmm. Shrug. "Regardless, even if I am not eloquent, we are grateful."
James Barnes gets up and goes to get two glasses of water...or soda, if he has it. No booze though, despite Pete's request. "You had a badge and what seemed to be a valid ID. You also haven't shot me so I'd say we're even. I'm not going to randomly stab people if they're not trying to hurt me, so here we are. At least you didn't destroy my bathroom when you popped into it..." or did they? He didn't get much of a chance to see. There was nothing glaring, at least. "You're welcome, though. I mean, I wasn't going to kick you two off the balcony for an accident."
Warren gets up and goes to get two glasses of water...or soda, if he has it. No booze though, despite Pete's request. "You had a badge and what seemed to be a valid ID. You also haven't shot me so I'd say we're even. I'm not going to randomly stab people if they're not trying to hurt me, so here we are. At least you didn't destroy my bathroom when you popped into it..." or did they? He didn't get much of a chance to see. There was nothing glaring, at least. "You're welcome, though. I mean, I wasn't going to kick you two off the balcony for an accident."
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