xp_logs | Scott and Forge, the infirmary

It's practically the definition of irony when the guy sentenced to infirmary duty winds up bringing pills to the guy who sentenced him.

Forge balanced the tray of meds on his hand before placing it back on the cart. Most of Masque's victims needed a good dose of vitamins, and more than half of them were requesting some sort of sedative or painkillers. It seemed that the longer one spent in one of Masque's twisted forms, the more traumatic returning to normal was.

After spending a few days with the victims, Forge had begun to realize how lucky he'd been to only have suffered a week of that. Checking the clipboard, he wheeled the tray and its last paper cup of pills to room three. As he pushed open the door with his hip, he wondered which of the victims merited the private room with the internet connection.

When he looked over his shoulder to see Mr. Summers in the bed, he couldn't help but laugh. "And this, as my literature class teaches me, is a fine example of irony, isn't it?"

Scott raised his head and sighed at the sight of who was in the doorway. "Afternoon," he muttered, then let his head sag back against the pillow. Even that small movement was enough to make him dizzy.

Forge set the small cup by the bedside. Scott's laptop was still closed, which meant that the workaholic headmaster definitely had something serious going on. He didn't look to be injured, so Forge took a look at the medication list. "Bismuth sacyliate, suspension of sodium bicarb... hey, you've got an ulcer!"

Sometimes he preferred the kids who were as dumb as a post, he really did. "Gold star for you," Scott murmured, closing his eyes and wondering if Forge would just wander right back out again if he pretended to have fallen asleep.

"I recognize the stuff, I had one once, y'know?" Forge said, perusing the medication list. "Amoxicillin, hey, you know there's actually a bacteria that causes ulcers? It's not just stress like everyone things. Though in your case, heh, might be suited better."

When he realized Scott wasn't laughing, Forge set the clipboard down silently and leaned on the cart. "I wanted to, uh... I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the other day. Thinking about it, and after working with these other vic... people, I realized that I was really disrespectful to you, and I'm sorry."

"Forge..." Scott opened his eyes, swallowing. "The apology's appreciated," he said, shifting on his side to pick up the little cup of pills. Moving around that much sent another wave of nausea through him, and he stopped for a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. I am not throwing up again. "Appreciated," he went on more faintly, feeling the beads of sweat standing out on his forehead as he opened his eyes again, "but not really necessary. You've been through a hell of a week. I don't agree with what you did, but I understand it. That's not to say I'd like to see you do it again. If you think about what I said to you, I'd value that as much or even more than the apology."

Forge nodded. "And that's what I was thinking about - here, roll onto your other side. That'll keep the stomach acid from draining into your esophagus." He extended a hand to help the headmaster adjust himself. "You mentioned that we shouldn't be trying to dispense justice, but to help and protect. And I realized that's something I don't know how to do - protect myself. I mean, I've been through Mr. Kylun's standard stuff as part of P.E., but it's not really applicable when..." he tapped his knuckles against his leg.

"I'm not saying I need to learn how to hit people - the idea still doesn't sit well with me. But... I'm saying I'm tired of being a victim. I'm frustrated. I need to learn how to defend myself so I don't wind up like those folks out there. Like I've been winding up."

"Asymmetrical self-defense," Scott said. Absurdly, a faint flicker of a smile tugged at his lips. "You know, it could be done. Really could." Forge was right; this was a better position. "You've got," Scott went on, untensing a little, "a lot more ways to defend yourself than you realize, I think."

"That don't involve me building something to zap someone with?" Forge replied, a frown crossing his face. "I've been doing pretty well at not using my abilities to build stuff to hurt people. It's kind of a thing with me, you know? I mean, it's like you said, I'm not exactly symmetrical here, and graceful? Please. The reason I use the gym at two in the morning is so no one laughs at how completely awkward I look. But, I mean - it's been coming back to me, that night?"

He frowned again, wrapping his arms around himself. "They came after us, and Kyle was right in their faces. That's why he twisted him like he did, because he was the first threat. Me? I was harmless. Practically down before they even hit me. Pathetic, really."

"Not symmetrical... that's not what I mean," Scott protested weakly. Okay, so he probably shouldn't try and make jokes when he was in this much pain. Clearly they didn't come out properly. "Haven't you ever heard the term 'asymmetric warfare'? Unconventional tactics, etcetera..." Forge wasn't following, and Scott grimaced. "Okay, I'm not saying build a death zapper, or whatever... but what you need is something unconventional. You don't have the physical capabilities to engage someone coming after you, in most cases. So you compensate by being smarter than them."

"I'm already smarter than everyone," Forge said reflexively. "But you're saying that if I can't outfight someone, maneuver things so I can outthink them? That's what Mr. Kylun means about control of the situation, isn't it?"

"Forge, think about it for a second. You are smarter than everyone, but smarter in certain ways." Where was he finding the energy to have this discussion? Needs must, he supposed. "If you and I were leading opposing units out in the field, I'd kick your ass. Because you've never been taught that particular sort of strategic thinking -and you don't need to know it, thankfully. But some of the basic elements of it would carry over to your situation, and be helpful." Scott leaned back against the pillows, wincing tiredly. "Actually, with you it would be as much tactics as strategy, that you need..."

Forge reached over, turning off the small light above the bed. "I'll hold you to that later, when you're not fighting Waterloo against your guts. If you're willing to teach, I promise to listen. Scout's honor. Now I'd better get back to Dr. Voght, before she accuses me of trying to poison someone or something. I swear, she's a one-woman Bolshevik Revolution..."

"Always willing to teach," Scott sighed, and the stupid thing was, it was true. No matter how difficult or pointless it could seem, sometimes. I wonder what that says about me. Do I really want to know? "Standing offer. Give me some time and I'll probably have a whole curriculum for you, complete with visual aids..." All right, that had sounded a little more like the joke he'd intended it to be.

"Only if you're able to walk to class," Forge said as he opened the door and pushed the cart into the hall. "I'd get bored as hell trying to make an artificial duodenum for you. My rule is one replacement body part per customer, you know."