Kyle, who has precious little experience treating anybody like a lady, stares after Deadpool a moment. "Don't just--!"

But he's gone. "--leave. Fuck."

Kyle looks morosely at the skull. "It's hard to find anybody who sticks around," he tells it. "You know that? When I was little, it was like your friends stuck by you no matter how crazy shit got. But since I've grown up? It's not like that. People just come and go."

He sighs, scrubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

"I miss having friends," he mutters.