No one knew what exactly had happened inside Deadpool's head.
All anyone could see was the rotten-faced Mercenary dancing every kind of dance from Earth while vomiting, suffering diarrhea, and bleeding from all seven orifices as though he had eaten something bad.
Whenever he got carried away, he was beside himself with joy, scratching his ears and cheeks like a monkey as he tore off huge chunks of skin and flesh—a literal striptease.
At first, everyone had been concerned about his condition, but after he had danced nonstop for three hours, the ladies had started yawning.
"He doesn't dance as well as Star-Lord."
Daisy said this while sitting on the flying carpet, because she felt that a male dancer was the true professional.
"I'm not familiar with Star-Lord, but I think Rocket is pretty cute. His mouth is a little dirty, though."
Carol recalled the Guardians of the Galaxy and grabbed another handful of sunflower seeds. Although Rocket Raccoon had never been particularly nice to her, she liked furry little animals.
Monica ate her self-heating hotpot somewhat sheepishly. It was her first time having a picnic in space. Although the surroundings were rather filthy and rundown, she still cherished the opportunity. She said:
"Ladies, when we get back, could you introduce me to more Superheroes?"
Thor took an ice cream from the plate in the middle of the flying carpet and readily agreed. "Of course. When we get back, I can take you to meet Miss Poole and Hela."
"Hela is a God of the Underworld. The living should avoid meeting her, meow," Professor Xu added.
"She's actually pretty nice. She's just too much of a homebody," Daisy said kindly, putting in a good word for Hela.
The women chatted idly like this, letting out clear laughter from time to