[He must trust that exhaustion, because he makes the joke within reach. And it is a joke, with none of the snide undertones his younger self might have afflicted. He's trying.]
[Gooseflesh is very noticeable on someone with fur; when Bigby exhales, Kurt becomes subtly fluffier looking. It does not one bit of good, and aside from rubbing his arms Kurt doesn't protest.]
And you at such an advanced age. For shame, you should try new things.
We could bleach some theatre curtains, steal a few hundred yards of lace. Bribe Winn with good booze and amusing stories from Kitty's youth. You have options.
[Despite the circumstances, Kurt's fighting back a soft chuckle at the image of Bigby in one of those ridiculous monstrosities that were popular when half the X-Men decided to tie the knot.]
This is, without a doubt, one of the strangest conversations I've had in my life. [He says after a pause, shaking his head slowly.
Apparently he's decided to make himself comfortable, as before he speaks Kurt sinks into a crouch.] I assume you killed her. How the fuck do you kill a ghost?
[It doesn't even rate as strange to Bigby, except maybe the wedding dress bit. That was a bit weird.
Bigby lays his head down on his paws again.]
She wasn't a ghost. She was from the Silvering, the back of the looking glass. She had the power to step from there to any mirror and out into the real world.
Less strange now that you've said she's not a ghost. Magical dimensions I've been to. [And ridden an undead unicorn, which is somehow less strange to Kurt than the idea of a literal ghost.]
I'd be lying if I said I weren't intensely jealous of that ability. Being able to move through mirrors would be extremely useful. ['Or shadows', he thinks, and the mark over his eye twitches. Absently, Kurt rubs at it with the palm of his hand.]
[His expression doesn't change but Kurt's heartbeat changes tempo slightly, mild fear and the thrill of wondering how long he'd last if the two of them fought. He'd lose--and part of him is still not upset by the prospect--but it would be a hell of a challenge until he did.]
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[He must trust that exhaustion, because he makes the joke within reach. And it is a joke, with none of the snide undertones his younger self might have afflicted. He's trying.]
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Only white I've ever worn is a shirt or bandages.
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And you at such an advanced age. For shame, you should try new things.
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[Despite the circumstances, Kurt's fighting back a soft chuckle at the image of Bigby in one of those ridiculous monstrosities that were popular when half the X-Men decided to tie the knot.]
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[He sounds very laid back about it, though.]
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That's utterly disgusting. ..Though it would probably improve the garment.
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And it still might be better than Bloody Mary's reputed dress.
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There's nothing that'll bring her to the mirror anymore. Thank fuck. Psychotic fucking head stomper.
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Apparently he's decided to make himself comfortable, as before he speaks Kurt sinks into a crouch.] I assume you killed her. How the fuck do you kill a ghost?
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[It doesn't even rate as strange to Bigby, except maybe the wedding dress bit. That was a bit weird.
Bigby lays his head down on his paws again.]
She wasn't a ghost. She was from the Silvering, the back of the looking glass. She had the power to step from there to any mirror and out into the real world.
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I'd be lying if I said I weren't intensely jealous of that ability. Being able to move through mirrors would be extremely useful. ['Or shadows', he thinks, and the mark over his eye twitches. Absently, Kurt rubs at it with the palm of his hand.]
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[He lazily yawns and snaps his teeth shut with a distinct 'click'.]
Me? I gotta settle for walking. Or catching a cab.
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Can't drive, or don't?
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[He reaches to tap his head.]
Something in here. Not designed to deal with cars. Don't have the interest in forcing it into line.
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[So yes, actually, he's a good passenger.]
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[Kurt no.]
When you're human-shaped, of course.
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Oh?