"Hey, is that cute guy bringing his whatever again? Does that damned big gorilla always have to choose such a wonderful time to make a deal? Hmm?"
Inside a dim, cluttered, run-down apartment, a man dressed head to toe in a red-and-black bodysuit idly threw a dart. After pinning a young man's photo with a single throw, he muttered, "Don't these mob guys have sex lives? Hmm? Aren't they worried that while they're out doing jobs, there's another man at home... oh... God, sorry."
The man sprang off the couch and casually grabbed the mask from the table. "I almost forgot these guys couldn't possibly have girlfriends... whoops."
Standing before the mirror, he took a good look at his own face and could not resist stroking the mirror. "Hmm... you really are adorable."
"Aha, all right, enough of that. Time's up." The man let out a careless whistle, grabbed the two Samurai swords from the table, and slipped them onto his back. "Let me head to the destination and stake it out first, see who's going to get cute little—"
He opened the door, and his frivolous voice abruptly cut off. A boy of around fifteen or sixteen stood outside.
"Wait, kid?" Deadpool cocked his head. "Did I open the door wrong? Why is there someone outside a place like mine who makes me want to tear his clothes off at first glance... I don't remember ordering delivery service..."
"..." A vein twitched on Rimuru's forehead.
"Hey, little guy, why aren't you talking?" Deadpool crossed his arms, one hand pinching his chin. "Golden eyes and blue hair. All right, I think you're a mutant? So why are you here? Looking for my autograph?"
"I don't think it's either of those... so you are—ohhhhhhh!!!!"
Unable to endure any longer, Rimuru's hand