The hot Texas sun was set over the small town. The saloon was filled with the voices of people chatting, billiard balls clicking and piano music.

Wade Wilson, aka Deadpool, stuck out like a sore thumb. He was siting at the bar. Covered by red and black leather from head to toe. With pistols on his hips and boots with spurs on his feet. The only part of his body that showed was his lips. His mask is lifted to the bridge of his nose to allow him to drink his beer. His black leather hat is on the stool next to him.

Wade lifts the glass mug from the wood bar and downs the rest of it. He puts the mug down once more and wipes his mouth with the back of his gloved hand.

He waves his hand to get the attention of the burly bartender. “Another, please, princess.”

The bartender lets out a grumble. He grabs Wade’s mug and fills it again.

Thanks to his regenerative healing, Wade can’t get drunk. He can feel the effects of alcohol, to a point. But he can’t get fully drunk.