"Damn." 

“Fun, right? Kind of a shame about the side effects.”

And the trauma, but that’s pretty par for the course with his template.

“Anyway show me your web things.”

He shoots at the ground, once from each wrist.

"They don't look like much, you can kinda see them if you're looking really close but I'd basically just be showing you my wrists." 

This is still apparently very exciting.

“So many applications.”

“I’d show you mine, but I just finished sticking my arm back on.”

".....damn," he repeats, because what else can you say. 

“It was a hard breakup, but we’re cool now,” he says, patting his shoulder.

....oh, right, he can just ask Deadpool. "Do you know how to eat without taking the mask off, I have this thing about people knowing who I am." 

"–yeah, that's tricky. I don't think anybody's gonna clock you just from your mouth – yours a separate piece, or do you have a zentai suit thing going on?"

"It's a separate piece. I'm probably being paranoid, but being paranoid isn't really a habit I want to get out of." 

"I can show you how I do it, but you're kind of out of luck if you don't want anybody to see your mouth."

Deadpool is drawing some concerned looks from passers-by. It might be the supervillain blood (although that doesn't show up that much. Red suit, baby!), but it might just be Deadpool.

"Whatever you do seems to work!" 

He does his best to ignore the passers-by. They'll think whatever they'll think. 

"If it works with me, it'll work with anybody. I've got a, uh...kinda distinctive face."

Well, he'll find out. "Then I can just do it your way," and hope nobody notices how young he looks, because from the mouth down isn't enough to notice his identity but it might be enough to notice his age. 

"That's the spirit."

He stops at the door of a tiny restaurant with a couple of potted cacti in the window, and gestures for Sasha to follow him inside.

When he walks into the restaurant, he remembers very suddenly that he's had four apples and nothing else to eat today. 

It smells amazing in there.

A little old Mexican lady (who seems moderately pleased to see them) escorts them to a table and hands them a couple of menus before disappearing into the back.

Deadpool, who already has An Order, doesn't even look at his.

Sasha, who has never been here before, doesn't eat much Mexican food, and barely has preferences about food at all, just looks for the thing that sounds like it'll keep him full the longest. 

"The burritos here are bigger than your head," Deadpool points out, with suspiciously perfect timing.

Sasha looks at him for a moment before he says, "Alright." 

Can you hear me? he thinks at Deadpool, mostly to see if it'll work. 

Deadpool cheerfully inspects his own phone until the old lady comes back with no particular sign of psychic abilities.

"Combo platter number four, please!"

....kay. 

He orders a burrito. 

"...So. Let's get down to brass tacks."

He leans in across the table.

"How creepily accurate is your fansite?"

"Extremely. And now it's apparently offering accurate information about my villains too." 

"Wow. That's serious dedication."

He puts his chin in his hand.

"He doesn't give me villain tips. I'm kinda jealous."