Players:
Summary: With the Blackbird in the background, two men meet.
Date: February 23, 2010.
Log Title Hanging in the Hanger
Rating: PG
Xavier Mansion - Blackbird Hanger
A quick shuttle ride exits you to a large bay where sits the Blackbird. Advanced equipment to maintain the high tech plane is locked in cabinets and closets through out the room. Unless you are trained and have the authorization codes, you will not be able to access the Blackbird or the miscarry doors that open up for its launch.
It's been less than a few weeks since his arrival, and Forge has already made himself at home in the Hanger. Hanging halfway out of the rear of one of the Jet's engines, Forge has begun finalizing some modifications he drew up only the day before. Other than the slow click of a wrench doing its job there's very little sound or movement coming from the spot the Maker sits. Just the occasional foot tap and the low, discerning 'hmmmm' of a man in his element.
While not trying to sneak over, Jonothon is none the less fairly quiet as he approaches. Having escaped the medical bay, again, this time he came down to where less people were. Imagine his surprise that you are here. Or maybe that's still here. The Brit did change his clothing at least. The pains have lessened as the days have passed, leaving him feeling a little better. Got sleep, washed, changed, and it's left him feeling a little more human. Or at least as human as he ever feels. If you don't notice him, Jono reaches out and waits for a foot tap. He then raps on the metal hiding you from view. Tap tap.
Forge is surprisingly trusting for a man who has seen as much as he has. No alerts, no buzzers to let him know he has a visitor. Nothing to warn him that a friend—or foe—approaches. As Jono knocks, Forge calls out, "Just a second." There's a few more wrench turns and the sound of metal on metal as he places the tool down. The inventor sits up and peaks out of the rear of the engine, appearance somewhat bespeckled in carbon soot. He hmms, looking about the room, "Hello?"
Damn and he had been hoping to startle you a little. Ah well. Jonothon is in easy sight, standing with his hand against the hull. «Just me.» That British voice you met the night you arrived. Hasn't seen you since. If anything Jono looks worse. Hair in eyes and uncombed, bags under eyes, and slouching more than normal. «You still hiding down here? Had enough time to build this thing twice over, haven't you?» Teasing, for he's pretty sure even you would take more than a couple weeks to build an entirely jet from scratch.
"Third time's a charm," Forge says with a friendly smile. He puts his hands on the edge of the engine and pushes himself out, landing on the ground with a 'thump.' "Hello Jonothon," the former X-man says, offering his gloved hand in greeting, "How are things?" The question is a simple one, but the look on his face isn't. "You look like you could do with a nice long hid down here too."
Jonothon grips that hand, just as he did the first night. «Eh.» How is he? Yeah, that good. «You know, life here goes to shit every other month. This is the off month.» A little pause as he wrinkles his nose. «And that's exactly why I'm here. Hope you don't mind some poor company.» Wouldn't be put off if you didn't want company though, for why else would you hide down here? Still, allow and he sinks down to quite simply sit on the floor. You can work if you want. Jono doesn't mind. «Heh.. I don't even know how to fly this thing.» Not sure why he admits that.
Forge nods and puts his hand on the man’s shoulder after Jono takes a seat, "I don't mind. I need a break anyways." He takes a step past Jono and walks over to a makeshift workbench, "So, what's the emergency this week?" He picks up a cup of coffee and nearly takes a drink. Giving it a funny look, he sets it down, his memory recalling that it should be fresh. Not 15 hours old—which is what it really is, "That is, if you care to share." He looks up to the jet and nods, "I need to test it later on. Could use a copilot."
Amused at that face, Jonothon doesn't tease about that old coffee. The guy who can't eat shouldn't tease those who can. «Sinister.» Does he want to talk about it? Not really, but people should be warned. «I start going insane, feel free to smack me over the head or something.» Resigned and tired. Very tired. «I'm suppose to be in the medical bay, but I'm getting cabin fever.» It should be said he's not left the grounds yet, just wandered a little. A blink about flying and he shakes his head. «Christ, no. I don't dare leave the school grounds right now. Thanks, though. Been in the jet tons of times, just was never trained to fly it.»
Forge nods, "It's easier than it looks," says someone who's logged thousands of hours in it. He leans against the desk and crosses his arms. Following an eyebrow raise he states, "Now there's a name I could live without ever hearing again." He inhales deeply, keeping an eye on Jono. "Well, I won't tell because, personally, I can't blame you for coming down. There's only so much Hank a person can take." He follows up with a smile, but it should be noted that, at least for the moment, his eyes are all about 'why' exactly he'd have to smack him.
A spread of hands says he doesn't know if it's easier than it looks. Has played copoilot a couple times, but never been taught properly, and Jonothon is wise enough not to try without that training. Joke about Hank and the Brit wrinkles his nose. «I've had enough for a life time.» Too much Hank. Truly appreciates the doctor, but is tired of the non stop talk. «And thanks. He already knows where I am anyway. Or he will if he wants to find me.» Lifts his jacket to show a (X) comm beneath. It's very unlike the others though, not quite disguised as one. «I'm being responsible even in my escaping.» Amused at himself.
Forge smirks, "Well played; this way I'm not harboring a fugitive at least!" He takes a moment to remove the glove from his artificial hand and cleans it off—the glove, not his hand—by smacking it on his knee before pulling it back on, "I like Hank. Don't get me wrong. But, well, he loves to hear himself talk more than all of us combined. So, I can commiserate." He walks back over, stepping past again as he asks, "So, what brought you down to the med bay?"
Jonothon wouldn't do that to anyone, much less another X-men. Even an ex one. He shakes his head and motions laughter at Hank liking to hear himself talk. So true! «That he does. Bloke never bloody shuts up.» Dragging a hand back through his tangled hair, he tilts his head and looks to you. Dark eyes flicker with flames briefly. «Sinister marked me a couple years ago. Some days ago it started hurting. Like curl up on the floor and hope you die hurting. Last time I felt this bad I blew up and killed people.» Using it as a comparison, not to suggest it will happen here. «Something will happen soon, but I don't know what.»
Forge hmmms to himself, his eyes on the engine, mind more than capable of handling the workload while he talks, "I'd offer some sort of consolation, but I'm what you call a realist. And, if you know Sinister half as well any of us, you'll know there's really nothing that can be done until it happens." He stares deep into the blackness of the hole in the back of the bird and offers an apology, "Sorry." He does add, however, "For what it's worth, I'll get with Hank on what he knows and see if there's anything I can do help control, confine, or cancel out what ever Sinister has planned."
Wrapping arms loosely around knees, Jonothon nods to you. Not drawing in, just sitting comfortably. «That's exactly how I feel about it.» There's nothing to be done, so he waits. «Don't need to be.» Sorry he means. «I'm a special case in nearly all ways, so I don't expect Hank to save me before the shit comes down.» Another shake of the head. «And don't worry about it before hand. I go off the wall, worry about it then.» A pause as he rocks a little where he sits. Excess energy. Normally not the kind to fidget. «I'm sitting here now because I want to be. As obvious as that sounds, I died eight years ago, and was too stubborn to stop moving. This body is held together by my will. Somehow Sinister put that mark in my psyche, making it have a physical aspect. That isn't Hank's specialty. We'll just have to wait.»
There's a click-click-click behind Jono, and, when he next looks, Forge is aiming an instrument at him, "Hope you don't mind if I get a reading. It might come in useful later." He studies the gauge, "I'd like to discuss your powers at length sometime soon. Might help us develop an offensive." Or defense, as it is left unsaid. "Personally, with a stubborn streak like that, I can see why you fit in around here," the man says with a smile, "If you don't mind I'll access your file as well. I need to ask since I'm not technically on staff here. For now, I'm just consulting and replaying some kindness." He nods to the plane, "Figure a 15% increase in fuel efficiency is a start."
A roll of eyes at you says what he thinks of this. Nope, not too worried. «Scan away.» Figures Hank already has the good scans, but hey. «I don't care. Not trying to hide anything.» Jonothon assures of both scans and of accessing his file. The scan would be interesting in that he doesn't show as a life form. Yes, he's there. Oh boy, is he there. Power readings go off the charts by a good margin. The Brit sits calmly and lets you do whatever. «Heh. As much fuel as that thing consumes, they'll appreciate it.» The jet is costly to maintain after all. «Ask about my powers as you want, but I don't know everything. Been eight years and I'm only now beginning to figure things out.»
Forge nods giving the meter his eye after resetting it twice, "Well, according to this, you're perfectly healthy—for an object of unknown mass, origin, and explanation. I dare Hank to come to the same diagnosis in as few words." He smiles and puts the device on the inside surface of the engine, "So, you're as much a mystery to yourself as the rest of the school." He puts his hand on your shoulder again, "At least you're in the right place for answers. And, with luck, we'll have some soon." The latter in regards to Sinister.
There's the shake of laughter, for all he can't make the sounds. That sums him up well doesn't it? «Spare me the silver lining, but I think I'll come see you when I need something medical. I prefer the short version.» Asked of you, for all Jonothon does appreciate the sentiment. Doesn't mind the hand to his shoulder either. «Tired of all the bollocks it will get better talk.» Which he's had for years now. «This won't get better. It's going to get worse. I'll bloody well try to survive, and kick Sinister's head in, but it won't be better.» Not for a while yet.
There's a sigh and a nod as the man sits down next to Jono, "You're well beyond your years. So, no, it won't get better—easily. And it will get worse, However, that said, you are in the best place you can be for when it happens. And we'll all be there to kick him in the head—again. Something I'm sure you already know." He nods up to the Bird, "You can't blame me for trying, at least. I relate better to her than people. So, excuse me if I come off a bit…blunt…or overly-well meaning."
«I'm not exactly twelve.» Said with amusement and the wrinkling of that large nose. He's hardly a teen any more, for all he's hardly old. «Yeah, I'm here because of that.» This being the best place. Jonothon knows it. «Not too worried about Sinister really. He's been beaten before, and will again. I'm worried I won't be able to stop myself from killing people here if he does something to me.» Always more afraid of himself than most everything else. There's the motion of a hand. «I'd rather you be blunt. It's refreshing. Most everyone tries to give me the rainbow speech. Everything will be great.. and bollocks like that.»
"I knew there was something I was going to like about you," Forge says with a grin, "So I'll save my often-poor attempts at softening blows for someone who wants to hear them." He looks out towards the rest of his temporary shop, "And yes. Sinister isn't the issue at the end of the day, it's everything else that happens because of him. Maybe, just maybe, if I can come up with a dampening field that can buy you some time before the next time you…explode…we can save some collateral damage for, say, the front yard and not the cafeteria or a classroom."
Jonothon merely rolls his eyes again, but he's smiling. It shows in his eyes. «A dampener would work, but be careful. Turn off my powers and I'll die.» Jono knows that fact. «Really, I'm not worried about exploding. I vent all the energy I'm able every day, in the danger room.» Being as responsible as he can be. «If I'm controlled though.. that could be nast….» Meant to say nasty, but then motions a sigh. «Thanks, mate, but the chatter box demands me back.» Rises to his feet, weary but able, and lifts a hand. «Don't hide too much.» Doesn't linger around for long good-byes, and heads off.
Forge nods, calling out a simple, "Be safe." He walks back towards his work-in-progress and starts to climb back into the same place he probably fell asleep last night. Before Jono is out the door, the wrench has already started echoing throughout the hanger.
