xp_logs | Log: Forge, Tommy

In a seemingly uncharacteristic helpful gesture, Forge takes a laptop down to Tommy and gets him set up on the school network. And just as surprisingly, the two of them have an amazingly civil and friendly conversation.

"Because Hank's not here anymore, Kitty would say no, Doug would play the offended hero, and I'm the only other one this familiar with the system."

Forge reflected on what he'd told the Professor as he signed out one of the school's laptops in the name of one Jones, Thomas. If the guy was going to stay and be an official student, it was only fair that he be offered the same modes of expression as the other students. That meant the standard school-issued laptop, and access to the journals.

"If he's going to be inflammatory," Forge had insisted, "Isn't it better to be out where everyone can see, instead of whispers and rumors flying about how horrible the new kid is?"

To his surprise, the Professor had agreed, sending Forge down to the medlab room where Tommy was staying. And so Forge found himself outside the door, after stopping by Moira's office and ensuring that the security cameras were on. With everyone's sudden paranoia about students taking some weird sense of justice into their own hands, Forge didn't want any potential altercations do devolve into a "he said/he said" argument.

Steeling himself, he knocked on the door. "Tommy? Mr. Jones? Thomas?" he asked, sticking his head in.

Tommy sat on the bed he had occupied for over two months, legs curled to his chest with his back against the wall. A book, 1984, was nestled against his legs as he read, the only thing he felt truely safe doing, in the only place he felt safe in the entire mansion. A stack of various book sat on the bed side table and he was almost half way through, having read almost straight since Sunday morning, except for sleep, small meals and talking to both Dr. Grey and Professor Xavier.

The voice at the door made him freeze up, before he slowly took a deep breath to allow himself to relax. You don't have to be afraid anymore... Dr. Grey's words came back to him and Tommy licked his lips before looking up at the head sticking through the door.

"What?" His voice was quiet and wary.

Hearing the caution in the other boy's voice, Forge slowly walked into the room, leaving the door open behind him. Holding up the laptop, he nodded in greeting. "I'm Forge. Going to get you set up on the school's network, email, journal system and all that. This'll be your laptop, you can take it with you when you get your room and everything."

Tommy raised an eyebrow at that. Dr. Grey had mentioned something along those lines but he figured it would be weeks before they thought him ready enough. He'd seen suicidal people before and the wide berth people often gave them after abortive attempts. Instead, it seemed, they wanted him to try and continue on life as normal. Odd...interesting, but odd.

"Alright." He sat up, hanging his legs off the edge of the bed and putting his book down. He gestured over to the bedside table as he moved the books to the side. "What kind of name is Forge?" The more he talked, the less he thought.

"John Henry Forge," he explained, pulling a stool over and setting the laptop on the table and starting it up. "Only my parents use my first name, or folks who're pissed off at me like to holler the whole thing. And when I got here, there were already two Johns and one Henry, so it fit perfectly. Besides..."

Forge raised his left arm, letting his sleeve pull back to show the metal of his artificial arm. "I make things. It's what I do. Irony, huh?" Glancing up, he caught the faintest glimmer of recognition in Tommy's eyes. "Oh yeah, we've met."

"Where would we..."Tommy had stood up to stand behind Forge's chair so he could watch and learn what was going on with the laptop and was about to make a retort, more automatic then actually meant, but when Forge showed him his arm, Tommy near about paniced. He *did* rememeber Forge, they had been introduced by Terry the night he had.."oh fuck."

Tommy turned away from Forge, almost anticipating another attack of some sort. He clenched his eyes shut as he kneeled on the floor, trying to get his breath back, to *stop* panicing...You are safe here remember? Tommy tried to remind himself, but it still took a few long moments to calm himself down.

"Hey, hey. Whoa there." Forge backed away slightly, holding his hands out cautiously. "I'm not here for any trouble. For one, you've got at least thirty pounds of muscle on me. Two, I'm somewhat of a pacifist by nature, what with being a total wimp and all. And three, you could probably transform me into tissue paper or something. So I'm not about to try anything stupid. Besides, would it solve anything?" He cocked his head at Tommy.

Pulling his stool closer, he turned the laptop screen to face Tommy. "Here's your login screen. Login's just your last name, first and middle initial. Initial password's the same, it'll ask you to change it the first time you log on. I've gone ahead and added you to the journal system, with access to the main and student groups too."

Shaking his head, Tommy stood up again, his deamour suddenly very standoffish, almost defensive. This weakness made him sick, but the guy had been calm with him... "Sorry, haven't had the best of weeks, plus I can only do lead at the moment," he added sarcastically. He paid close attention to the instuctions, memorizing them to push other things out of his cluttered thoughts. "Are these journals a required thing?" If they were, Tommy wasn't sure how he would handle it. It would definatly be difficult going. If they weren't...he could just ignore it.

As he thought about it, Tommy had drawn the lead twig and leaves from his pocket, fiddling with them between his fingers. For some reason, the sign of his mutation calmed him down, especially after panicing, which was quite often lately.

Forge shook his head. "Not required, but it's a common way of getting information back and forth, build a sense of community, all that. School announcements come through them a lot, too, so it's a good idea to keep up." Tapping in a few commands, he swiveled the laptop to face Tommy fully, leaning back in the chair and crossing his legs. "There you go, all set up, Tom. Tommy. Okay, what in the heck do you go by, anyway? There's got to be something a little more personal than 'that FoH kid'."

Sighing, Tommy sat back down on the bed, still twirling the tiwg around idly. So he couldn't avoid them. Joy. But he had promised Dr. Grey he would try and at least this way he didn't have to physically face the the rest of the school. Then he heard Forge's question and closed his eyes when he sighed this time. "I'm no more FOH then you are any more, if you take the fact they would kill me if I left these walls." His voice was flat and matter a fact. "My name is Tommy, though I'm sure your classmates will give you more colorful ones. I've already heard one, flatscan I believe?" That he couldn't help coming out slightly bitter.

Forge screwed up his face. "Dammit, I'll guess that was Kyle? Six foot or so, fangs and..." he noticed Tommy's neck. "Claws. Yeah. He can be a bit of an ass sometimes. Sorry."

Tommy nodded in slight disgust. "That sounds about right. Though I will admit, it was more original then I was expecting. But yeah, the name's just Tommy."

"It's a bit more original than 'mutie'," Forge admitted with a sheepish look, "but no less offensive. All it does is make people sound like racist idiots. But hell, I'm not going to sit here and preach at you, you've probably had a dozen people try that already." He glanced over at the book Tommy was reading. "Orwell, huh? I'm more of a Huxley reader myself. Brave new world, and all that. So what do you do when you're not holed up and reading, Tommy?"

Tommy hated to admit it, but he was beginning to like this kid. Finally, someone he could have an intellegent conversation with without it getting turned around on him. "Thank you. I have had enough preaching for a life time, so a appreciate it. And Orwell was actually near the bottom of my list. Twain's next but then I'm not sure what I'm going to read. I never had access to nor the opportunity to read such a fine collection of classics. Huxley you say? Any other recommendations?" He leaned back against the bed, crossing his arms over his chest comfortably. "I used to be the sporty type. It prevented me trying to and failing to have an intelligent conversation with the other FOH kids."

Forge let out a small laugh, then shook his head quickly. "Not laughing at you, trust me. Used to be when someone asked me 'what should I read?' I'd throw the Lensherr Manifesto at them. Then I spent three weeks with the guy, and I realize just how much bullshit one man can spout and make it sound good."

"Would you believe I've read it?" He gave Forge an ironic smile. "I asked an older student in the FOH for reading material once, as the stuff they allowed us was drivel. He gave me the Lensherr Manifesto and said to have a laugh. I'll admit, I did. It's bullshit from my point of view then and the point of view I'm trying to adopt now."

"And what point of view's that?" Forge asked, "Harder to espouse the party line when you've become the target, I'd imagine."

"Yes, exactly. I just want to learn to live with what I am. But first I need to figure that out. Either way, as an FOH or now a newly found out mutant...Lensherr was too extreme, to me anyway."

"It's not so bad," Forge replied. "And one of these days, you'll be able to walk around wherever you want, on your own terms, and to hell with anyone who has a problem with who and what you are." He nodded, standing up and rolling his shoulders. "You're giving it a shot. That's more than a lot of people would have expected. We'll show them, huh?"

It took three assaults and trying to kill myself, but "Yeah...I'm going to give this place a shot. Don't really have much of a choice anyway." Tommy wanted to ask about the We, but he figured that was a conversation for another day. "We will." Then he put out a hand. "Don't be a stranger. I could always use more book recommendations from an intelligent source."

"Oh believe me," Forge said, shaking Tommy's hand. "There's stranger than me here. Try not to hang out down here too long, they'll think you're sick or something. You don't want to know where Doc Moira keeps her stethoscope."