Marvel, Rebirth:

IC:

"Well, that was...frighteningly vague, bro."

IC:

"Is it? From a girl who regularly lets me pay for dinner, gas, and the shared Netflix account? Are hair care products really a stretch, Bekah?"

-Tyler

IC:

"Dal, buddy, I hacked the Enforcers and remotely disabled hundreds of Sentinels by taking advantage of a safety feature that required clearance from the director of the Enforcers to activate. And reverse-engineered, and guided, a dimensional portal that used to require a telepath to operate. In two weeks, give or take a few days."

Pause. Half grin.

"So what kind of patents do you think I have laying around?"

IC:

...

"You pay for those things because you invite me out. And the Netflix is because you decided to spare me the continued trouble of guessing it."

IC:

"...J-Jesus, man."

Dallas was solemn as they walked into the cafeteria; he caught sight of Nero, currently the only one eating breakfast, and decided to drag Alex over and catch up with the wheelchair-bound werewolf once he'd filled a plate to eye level with bacon.

"You know, you gotta give it a break with the 2020s technology and ######. I think you helped Siri ascend on my iPhone, man. I was downloading Windows 10 on my laptop the other night and all of a sudden my iPhone goes -" and here Dallas adopted his best, most disaffected impersonation of a female voice "-am I interrupting something, Dallas? Why is this cheap tramp in our bed?"

IC:

"And the same argument could go for you using my shampoo to spare the trouble of...of...you're stealing my shampoo and I'll find proof alright."

-Tyler

IC:

The technopath laughed. His plate, within a few minutes, was overloaded with bacon, sausage, and toast with a large mug of coffee already in hand. He gestured idly with his mug towards the pocket where Dallas had tucked away his phone, then took a long sip.

"Siri's a nice girl. Doesn't fit properly on an iPhone anymore, though. Had to give her some server space."

IC:

"Good luck."

IC:

"What have you done to my personal assistant?"

IC:

"Good lu--"

The leader of the Ultimate X-Men looked as though he'd been slapped for a moment before blinking incredulously and then frowning in reproach.

"You smug ######!"

-Tyler

IC:

"Just a few software updates Apple hasn't reached yet."

IC:

"That almost hurt."

IC:

"Am I gonna be Skynet's first casualty?"

IC:

"Not as much as this will."

Dallas Green swallowed the last of his pizza crust and disappeared under the booth, much like a black-headed, more svelte reincarnation of Jaws. The transdimensional shark breached the surface on the other side of the booth and quickly threw a haphazard arm around his best friend's shoulders. In his free hand was an iPhone, and his thumb moved at the same lightning speed as the trigger finger of a Gatling gun over the shutter button on the phone's camera.

"Instagram, here we come! You earned this, Bek!"

-Tyler

IC:

"N o," Was the mole, unaccustomed to flash photography's, reaction. Too slow to prevent the picture, she was nevertheless fast enough to snatch the phone out of the unsuspecting Dallas' hand before he had time to do anything else with it. Now that she had it in her hand, she spent a moment thinking. Unsure of what to do with it. But time was running out, so she took her best option.

And the phone vanished in a flash of purple.

IC:

"Of course not. Siri's a good girl."

IC:

Dallas Green jerked back in his seat abruptly, limply, as though the dark-haired woman had conjured up a Desert Eagle or a Draw 4 Uno card to eviscerate him with.

"You--you--"

How to answer this? How best to avenge his fallen smartphone?

The only way I know how.

The way to a mole's heart was through her eyes...or through her stomach.

"Check, please." The vengeful eyes of the technological widower flicked over the Iscariot beside him, and then back to the waitress when she'd walked up to them. "And we don't need this to go."

IC:

"...Could you at least try to vary your pre-programmed responses?"

-Tyler

IC:

"You can have your phone back, if that picture disappears forever."

IC:

"Error four-oh-four. Response option not found."

IC:

"You're such a ." Dallas, Alex at his side, sat down across from Nero with a typical smile. "Hey, man. Ignore Alex, I didn't spill enough coffee into his motherboard this morning."

IC:

"I can't promise that, Bek. Every Wednesday needs a woman crush."

-Tyler

IC:

"There are three or four other girls from our world alone. And even more in this one. Pick another one."

IC:

"Ignore him, he hasn't worn out his endorphin rush yet." Alex quipped, taking the seat at the other side of the table, Dallas on his left and Nero his right. "He's also trying to come to grips with his sentient personal assistant."

IC:

"Is that rejection I hear from the girl with an empty Instagram and one tracked account? That's rich. Oh yeah. I totally found that , Bekah. Thanks for the follow."

IC:

"She called Cortana a floozy."

-Tyler

IC:

"Have you seen Cortana? Siri is perfectly justified in defending her position. She doesn't want to have to live in my servers."

IC:

"You found nothing."

IC:

"Don't subroutine-shame Cortana."

IC:

"Bring us one box, actually, could you? I'm feeling nice tonight." When she was gone, though, the nice grin turned devilish. "Sure about that?"

...

Dallas scooted over in the booth and grinned wider, leaning closer to the dark-haired woman's ear.

"BekahbooGirl?"

-Tyler

IC:

"It wasn't the subroutines I was shaming, it was whoever decided to turn Halo's Cortana into a little blue halo that needs to be shamed."

IC:

"I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about." The dark-haired woman replied, taking another bite of her pizza and acting nonchalant. "There are a lot of Rebekahs in the world. Might have been the other one."

IC:

"Your feed would be obnoxiously full of Brooklyn."

IC:

"...She tells me the weather," Dallas muttered mutinously.

-Tyler

IC:

"Still doesn't make it mine."

IC:

"So does Siri, and she does it better. She can tell you anything you want to know. Hold a conversation."

IC:

"I'm positive it's you. If I had a phone anymore, I'd prove it."

IC:

"What the ###### is it with you and Siri? Did you model my Siri after Julia or something? Is there, like, some sort of treasure map hidden in Siri's vocal patterns that you're trying to get me to listen for?"

-Tyler

IC:

...

"You can have it back, if the photo never goes anywhere except your phone. That means no Instagram, no Twitter, no Snapchat, no Facebook, nothing anyone else can see."

IC:

"You don't answer texts anymore. She can actually get your attention for me."

IC:

"I'm making it my homescreen."

IC:

"Fine, dear."

-Tyler

IC:

"Why are you so determined to bring me suffering?"

IC:

"Thank you."

IC:

"You are not suffering."

She would be in about ninety seconds, though.

Dallas left the (sizable) cost of dinner on the table with a (sizable) tip and, with a coquettish wink and half-bow at Bekah, he made his way back out into the brisk New York night.

Now it was just a matter of waiting for the boom.

IC:

"Sorry, Nero. How's it going?"

-Tyler

IC:

"... Dallas Green, what did you do?" The dark-haired woman asked suspiciously, following close behind him with her box tucked tightly and protectively under one arm. "What are you up to?"

IC:

"Ooh. Surname, too. You got me scared to death, babe." Dallas leaned back across the bike and grinned. "I didn't do a thing."

-Tyler

IC:

"Why don't I believe you."

IC:

"Because you have an indelibly suspicious mind."

-Tyler

IC:

"Am I wrong?"

IC:

"I just think you could stand to be a little more lowkey."

-Tyler

IC:

"That's not an answer."

IC:

The grin on the Ultimate's face was positively catlike by now. One leg dangled carelessly over the side of the motorcycle.

"Sure it was."

-Tyler

IC:

"Dallas this isn't a modeling shoot."

IC:

"Could've fooled me."

Keys jangled around one of the empath's index fingers.

The grin tilted.

-Tyler

IC:

...

...

"If I do not get my keys back, you don't get your phone."

IC:

"Get over here and grab 'em."

-Tyler

IC:

"Toss them here."

IC:

"I'm not gonna do that. Feeling a li'l childish tonight. You're gonna have to come over here."

-Tyler

IC:

Mismatched eyes glared at him, their owner stepped just close enough to reach his hand but stayed as far away as possible, and tried to snatch the keys out of his hand.

IC:

"Whoops-a-daisy."

Dallas flicked his wrist upwards and tossed the keys into the air before him. With another practiced flick, he caught the chain and held it behind his head, arm crooked to provide the side of his head a pillow. He leaned back over the handlebars and looked up at Rebekah with undisguised amusement.

"Too slow."

-Tyler

IC:

"Give me the keys."