((Lol I remembered my password to this account.))

//now just use it, thanks. bye.

...

No.

Keep an eye out for @helenawayne and I in March’s issue of Captain Marvel.

       I move like a friggin’ ninja,           Hand-to-hand you know I’ll end ya,                Got two swords now I’ll avenge ya,                                          I don’t care if I offend ya!

      That’s an interesting choice of outfit. 

Black and white is the new black. It’s also designed to keep from riding up. 

        "Are you now?“ The words were spoken softly, tinted with a hint of disinterest as her violet gaze watched him. She didn’t know how long he had been drinking, although if she could have taken a wild guess she would have said the majority of the day.          "How fasctinating, Jean-Phillipe. Tell me, why do you bother?” There was that dead tone, as though she didn’t seem bothered by how he was acting and truth be told, she wasn’t especially bothered. She kept her gaze on him, legs crossed as she sat across from him.

“Because alcohol, much like your presence, must be enjoyed in abundance for it to be truly appreciated.” The hint of a smirk rest at the edge of his lips--she was intoxicating, and even though his heightened senses were dampened by the drink, the sight of her still managed to get his blood pumping. 

“What, or who, have you been occupying yourself with?” Jean-Phillipe dropped the bottle onto the hardwood floor--it fell to the side, echoed with a hollow thud, but did not break. 

Send me a ✖ if you enjoy my portrayal of my character.

The redhead blinked a few times more as she attempted to conjure up an answer.

     ”Well, we’d have to see about that.”

A tad bit of flirtation mixed with a slight ominous warning never hurt now and again. 

     ”But you’re right. At the very least we are sharing      oxygen. It’s good to be alive if it means being able      to go back to what I used to do around here. Although      I can’t say things are the same anymore, as I’m sure      you know. How have you been, Jean-Phillipe? Believe      it or not, I’m truly glad to see you.”

"Yes--we most certainly would have to see about that." The flirtatious warning was returned just as quickly--semantics was a game few chose to take part in, but Fantomex was always relieved to have someone play along. Every action, conversation, reaction, or choice had a chance of allowing the thief to gain something for himself. That was the reason why he allied himself with so many of the X-Men--they would always find a way to be useful to him in one way or another. 

"I have no trouble believing it, Miss Grey. Most would be relieved to see me upon waking from a not-so-permanent dirt nap--unless, of course, it was me who put them in the ground in the first place."

It would make a gruesome decoration, one Deadpool imagined as a hollowed-out jack o’lantern come Halloween. The mercenary turned his back to cover their flanks, they hadn’t exactly been whispering, but there was nobody to see. “Get some head and make it fast, this seems to be goin’ almost too well, dont’cha think?”

"If only--had I the chance to obtain the man who played Gandhi's head, I'd snatch it as quickly as possible. This? This is the head of the Mandarin." Fantomex took hold of the glass that housed the head--voices other than his own began to worm their way into the head of the thief. The mask, normally resistant to mental intrusion, did nothing to halt the foreign advance. Take it. Take what is yours. 

"I..." Fantomex's voice trailed off, the glass slipping from his hand and crashing to the ground. Alarms began to rip into existence, screaming for someone to come and erase the nuisance that disturbed the peace of the vault. Fantomex wasted no time in grabbing the head, but he froze once he had. Mine. Mineminemineminemine. Home. Homehomehomehome. POWER!