#weasel deadpool

The door to Sister Margaret's School for Wayward Girls slammed open, but not a soul paid it any mind. The mercenaries littered about the room busied themselves with booze, brawling, and buffoonery as pink lace and ruffles skipped into the dingy barroom.

Over at the bar, Weasel's attention was kept from noticing the new patron by an ornery customer refusing to be cut off. The drunkard stepped around the bar end, attempting to throw a friendly arm around the scrawny man. But the click of a gun being cocked stopped him short.

"You're gonna wanna step on back to the other side there, Buck," Weasel warned, voice tight underneath a layer of forced nonchalance. "You know I don't allow people behind my bar."

Buck raised his hands in concession and went back to his seat grumbling. Weasel let out a relieved breath, stowing away the gun he'd once again forgotten to buy bullets for.

Back in his seat, Buck was quick to complain once more despite the recent threat—after all, at Sister Margaret's a threat on one's life was more common than a friendly word. "You're mighty lucky we like you, Tiny Tim. Gimme just one more beer? Least I des'rve for you practically scarin' me sober."

Both men knew Weasel had done nothing of the sort—the bartender's demeanor was far from matching that of his clientele, and the gun was more a reminder of the rules than an actual weapon—but he appreciated Buck's attempt at pretending. "Fine, fine," Weasel gave in, pulling a pint and setting it down just in time for a small body to crash into his in a surprise hug.

"Wessy!!" A small oof escaped him upon impact, but Weasel covered it with an embarrassed chuckle. The young woman pulled away from the embrace and stretched up on her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek. "I missed you!"

"Pix, I told you to stop calling me that in front of the customers," Weasel griped, wiping away the smudge of pink lipstick he already knew marked him with a rag. Trying to hide his blush, Weasel picked up a glass and began cleaning it. "You've been gone for two whole days this time. I'm basically a damsel in distress now, serving all these scoundrels and ne'er-do-wells on my own."

Pixie let out a peal of delighted laughter at his words, "I don't even work here!" Still, she ducked into the back to fish out an apron and a stool so that she could join the bartender.

"Hey, why does she get to go behind the bar no problem, and I get the business end of a piece?" Buck groused, setting down his drink after downing half.

"Because," Weasel declared, pointing the dirty rag at the man, "you aren't cute as a button." He paused. "Also, I go stupid every time she so much as looks at me and forget to tell her no."

Buck barked a laugh and lifted his drink, "You're so fuckin' weak."