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He'd waited long enough for his bruised jaw to heal, covering the parts he couldn't hide as best he could with some concealer, glad for a few skills he'd picked up working theater in school. He'd liked theater, he even liked the musical bits, but only the make up parts were useful now, trying to make sure his father didn't feel obliged to display any more smothering, obligatory concern.

It was just easier when he was out at work, or flirting with the newest object of his affections.

How the man had successfully had a number of flings and affairs when they both shared a similar 'Ichabod Crane' physique was still beyond his son.

"Ok. Ok I've got this..."

He assured himself, spinning the shepherds crook in one hand, the butt rested on hard packed ground as he fidgeted, trying to pinpoint the creepy energy signature that was making the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stand to attention. Not the hooded girl, Laverna, he was pretty sure, but he didn't know how many of the 'other side' were that gymnastically inclined.

He wasn't, but that was why he was making his way along at mostly street level, after trying to jump building to building earlier like he'd caught a glimpse of some girl doing. He'd slipped on an slightly rain wet surface from an earlier drizzle and knocked the wind out of himself, hard... and then decided that maybe he wasn't really up for that yet.

...He had no idea how that girl had been doing it in what he was pretty sure from a blurry glimpse were -stiletto heels-

"I've got this... I've got this... if they're chasing me they aren't hurting someone else." He tried to assure himself, though his pulse was starting to race a little, and he was pretty sure he could feel himself shedding the muscle mass Lucas had been trying to help him put on, forgetting all the tips about how to throw a punch or a kick. He felt like as soon as he got into another fight, he was going to suddenly revert to the barely mobile weakling he'd been after the coma. Or just be quickly and painfully humiliated like with the guy with the long hair.

How he'd managed to KO a monster bat without superpowers continued to be beyond him.

Wallop made an very undignified noise of surprise when she came up on him with cheerful greeting, wide eyes and blinking in surprise when the blow he'd apparently anticipated and raised his arms to ward off did not follow. But then, Gadolinite hadn't attacked off the bat either, and apparently this one had watched him splat earlier, a detail that made him a fascinating combination of embarrassed and nervous.

"YEP!" He noted, at a pitch and volume he had not initially intended, then corrected himself. "Yep, I'm good. You saw that huh? Damn, I gotta work on my prat fall routine if I'm gonna have an audience." He joked, trying to get revved up to deal with this.

Man it was so much easier when he was younger and figured the worst thing that could happen to him was getting shut into a bin with the trash, or tetris fit into an locker. That was before he knew about people who could rip out part of you that some people still debated the existence of.

"Hey, how you doing. Nice night, right? Man I do not envy you ladies, trying to bounce around in high heels. That's gotta take some skills huh?"

More talking, less hitting, less plumbob grabbing right?

For a second he was confused if she was asking where the bruise was going to be, but then realized it was some kind of translation problem.

"Yeah well, I mean to be fair they kinda tried to kill me regardless of the excess of plaid and sheepskin..." He offered, warily. "I mean you guys aren't exactly out there with a 'free hugs' campaign... more like a 'free horrible lingering death' one..."

A deeply unreasonable part of him wanted to complain that it wasn't his fault, not entirely. He hadn't chosen this, he'd kind of backed into it, health issues and all... but she'd already pegged him as incompetent, she didn't need to know how bad it was.

The thought and the discussion of what she was or wasn't up to was interrupted by her reaching out toward him, and he reflexively moved to shield his chest, which left her free reach to grab his jaw instead, though he immediately jerked backward in resistance to that as well, moving to knock her wrist away.

"Nope, nope nope... not playing the bad touch game."

He saw those spikes on her glove now, and did -not- want to try and explain what those would no doubt do to flesh to either Lucas -or- his father, no matter what her tone was.

"I mean yeah I'm not exactly Olympics material but..."



"

Well... s**t. He knew about the front... didn't know they could do it from behind too, and wondered what it said about the girl with the pockets that she'd decided to strike up a short conversation before attacking. Nothing good he was able to imagine anyway... He was even less sure about this one, openly admitting she was dangerous.

"Do they -know- it's quick or is that just what they TELL themselves to make sure they can -sleep- at night?"

He didn't intend the vitriol that came with that question... or... not entirely. He remembered how it had felt for him, and he also remembered... other lossess. the kind of patronizing pseudo comfort from people saying 'they're in a better place' or 'they didn't suffer'. As if they could know for sure. "I mean I'm sure you all use a different flavor of koolaide to get by but..." He backed up a step again and again moved to swat her hand away, maybe a little harder this time. "I wanna know how bad I gotta feel about ******** with you guys. Mileage seems to vary. I might need cards, like in Squirrel Girl."

Banter. Banter and keep her at bay. That would work, right? I mean he'd literally seen that other girl in heels, and she hadn't been the only one. You could feel them if you concentrated, like... static or sparks, if sparks came in types. Maybe more like sparks. All shades of light and dark and intensity. Someone had to notice right? He kind of wanted to think other people would come, like they had with that giant a** bird monster.

Never mind how badly that had flattened him.

"s**t though if I could have been Squirrel Girl I got pretty screwed and not in a fun way though." A sheepskin definitely didn't quite cover summoning a squirrel army and chilling with Kraven and Howard the Duck, Koi Boy and Chipmunk Hunk....

He kinda liked her a little, or at least this aspect of her, which seemed unfortunate. Seriously though how did you have that done to you and still do it to other people? Man that was ******** up. What -wasn't- ******** up about all this though?

"I'm not cute enough to be Doreen though, like maybe shitty dead-pool knock off without the actual powers or skills, just, like ugly, but like, not the penultimately crappy one from the movie with the mouth thing. That was bullshit. If you took away Deadpools ability to talk he'd like... use ASL or..." He parried again, frowning. "poster boards. One does not just shut up Deadpool. Dude what is this, a road trip to the farm?" He asked, adding, in as childish a tone as he could manage. "Mooooooooooommmmm she's on my side of the carrrrrrrrrrrrrr."

"Ooh now you're getting kinky sounding, but I'm seeing someone tonight." Although in this case it was a irritated Conure who felt she was overdue for a night of music videos and X-files and fruit. "Sabretooth definitely could use a manicure..."

Why they hadn't based it on actual claws he wasn't sure, they could be dark without looking filthy, and it wasn't like he would be using them like a badger or a digging animal. Costuming fail...

But he needed to concentrate, since she was circling, and he was trying to keep pace. At least if he kept an eye on her, he'd have a chance to defend against any attempts to hit him or go for his plumbob. Not so much with the back... though he didn't understand what she had to gain by trying to tell him anything, even parts he already knew, but that others might not have figured out.

"But what's your story there? You don't come off like the standard Madame Hydra shallow fem-fatalle and I don't see you letting yourself get turned into some trophy between two assholes in different camps..."

He fought the urge to lick his lips nervously, trying to remember Lucas' pointers. Shift your weight to keep your balance... hold your fists just so... don't aim for the face without gloves on, that's hollywood bullshit...

A broomstick had taken a reasonable place for his crook but punching bags didn't fight back.

"Because I've already met one of you guys who used a nice friendly chat as the prologue to the whole plum-bob grab thing... kinda leaves an impression on a guy."

Now that he thought of it... he wondered how he'd gotten better. He'd gotten Lucas's back, and Lucas had bounced back pretty quick.. but he didn't think they regenerated like Wolverine... but a whole week?

Too many questions. He didn't want to think about his soul having been outside his body for a week. What did they even do with it in the mean time? Carry it around in one of those ridiculous pockets?

"I mean no offense but you know what they say, fool me once, shame on you... fool me twice..."

He worried his lip with his teeth, and was, actually, debating sprinting, but didn't.

"...It's Wallop. Nether Wallop. You can make a joke, I assure you I've probably made them..."

"Not to the extent you'd think. In fact none yet." Wallop admitted. It was kind of a weird name, even he had to admit that, and he had a pretty decent (in his own estimation) sense of humor about that aspect of it at least.

"Well you definitely leave an impressION!" His tone rose on the last part of the word in surprise as she reached out to boop his nose (a feat he considered sort of like trying to hit the side of a barn, though to be fair it was more like hitting the edge of a barn. "....Glad I could bring some humor to your night..."