"As far as I'm concerned, the head mysteriously disappeared and I don't know where it went. But please stow it in some appropriate place before you take Ungoliant here out for post-first-deathtrap Tex-Mex."

— Is this how you make friends when you're a superhero? He really hopes death traps aren't the only way to make friends as a superhero. 

“Aww, you’re letting me keep my head and you’re setting me up on a lunch date? If you ever cash in all these favors I’m gonna be so fucked.”

“I mean, you know, figuratively.”

"Sweetheart, the only thing I would cash in my favors for is a literal fucking."

Crap, eating involves taking the mask at least partway off. "I can't believe you're stealing my date," he says, as if this is a thing he does all the time. 

"I steal everyone's dates." 

He is suddenly quiet and serious.

"But my intent here is actually platonic. You seem like you need distraction and I don't actually know a person who is more distracting than Deadpool."

“It’s my special skill!”

Other than murder. And getting incredibly injured. And finding decent Tex-Mex places that’ll let you in carrying seven guns and two swords.

"...yeah. You're not wrong.

Thank you. For everything." 

The seriousness disappears as quickly as it came. 

"I'm never wrong! --Unless you ask Marlo. Marlo has a whole list of things I'm wrong about."

"I'll keep that in mind if I ever meet him." 

"Hey, Spidey?"

"Yeah?" 

"The offer was serious but I can in fact take 'no' for an answer."

"...It's not that I wouldn't like to, just. Circumstances." 

Circumstances like being fifteen. 

"Totally fair. Go eat your Tex-Mex, I gotta dearm these bombs."

Facemask on. Sasha can distantly hear the sound of Metallica.

During this emotional exchange, Deadpool has managed to conceal his souvenir in a nearby shrub.

He claps his hands together, spattering his already significantly stained costume with more blood.

“Okay! Little fried burritos! Doctor’s orders!”

That is probably the first time anyone has ever said those six words in that arrangement.

It probably isn't. There's a lot of people in the world and they say a lot of things. 

Now he just has to come up with a way to eat without taking his mask off by the time they get to the Tex-Mex place. 

Luckily, this one is vaguely within walking distance. Which saves one of them the embarrassment of being a superhero calling an Uber.

“So—are you a mutant, or did some cruel bastard do science to you?”

"Some cruel bastard did science to a spider, which was probably trying to just live its life when I came along and it bit me as spiders sometimes do." 

“Aww. Rest in peace, superspider.”

"Indeed. You? — do you actually have superpowers beyond all the guns, I have heard some things about you that would be physically improbable for someone without them but I have also heard some things about me." 

“Oh, yeah. Science bastard got me. I’m unkillable.”

“...or, wait, I think I did die for a couple seconds that time. Point is I regenerate when people do nasty things to me.”