xp_logs | Mister Forge goes to New York (Forge, Remy, Amanda, Doug)

Friday morning, Forge pays a visit to the Snow Valley center for some legitimate above-the-table consulting advice on his new job, from one of the experts in the subject.

Forge sat across the desk from Remy, trying not to stare at the way the scruffy Cajun's head cocked oddly as he read through the briefs he'd brought with him. That one eye had to be at least eighty percent blind by the way Remy was squinting with the other at the small print.

"I've got it all burned to DVD if you want to check it out later," he explained, leaning towards the desk. "It's everything I didn't put in the book about Magneto. Including the schematics for the Malice collar. I don't know what you guys do with the information, I don't want to know. Doug just said any kind of research material would help you guys, and this is what I have."

He leaned back in the chair, interlacing his fingers together, flesh over metal. "And I want to know, I mean, if you'll give me a hand with... that is, security. Alarm systems, burglary, insertions, raids. I want to know how they work, how they're put together and planned, and how to beat them."

"One of dese days, Remy going to make Magento eat dat damn collar." Remy muttered as he flipped through the files. He didn't answer Forge right away, letting his mind tick over the question first. He and Cain had worked on the mansion defences over a year ago. Not long before he'd left, he and Kuk had upgraded the sensors to compensate for additional information from the surrounding wildlife with Rahne's help.

Remy got up, poured two cups of coffee, slid the second over his desk to Forge, and sat down again before responding. "You know, what you just asked covers 'bout four years of intensive training wit' de Agency. You're not going to get a comprehensive answer in fifteen minutes." Forge took a sip of coffee, nodding in understanding. "I know. I'm not looking to get brute-force data on every possible contingency. Like everything else, I'm aware there's underlying theories to defeating security. I mean, yeah, I got some hands-on experience in Vegas, but I know there's more to it than that. Mr. Kuk explained to me that it's like a chess game, and people like you and Mr. Wisdom are the grand masters. Against any normal opponent? You can win in five moves. Against a skilled opponent, you find the weaknesses and exploit them - I need to know that strategy."

He steepled his fingers, leaning back. "Because I want to build a better mousetrap. Right now, the security system is damn near perfect for anything that's hit the school. But there's the escalation factor. Cops get semi-automatic weapons, the gangs get machine guns. Military wears body armor, terrorists use armor-piercing bullets. I can ensure that we always stay one step ahead - but I need to know what I'm staying one step ahead of."

"De first big issue dat you going to face is de nature of de school itself. Security is all about access. De tighter you can limit de access, by nature, de more secure it's going to be. If everyone knows everyone else by sight, it's harder to penetrate den a place where people are supposed to be going through." Remy considered it as he sipped. "So, wit' de school, de problem is restricting access wit'out turning it into an armed compound."

Forge smiled and nodded. "The Professor said the same thing. That's one of the reasons he instituted the journal system. So that we can know each other, trust each other. And I know that sure, I could build a scanner that'd sit above every door and check a person's biological markers every time they walked through. I can build it perfect, I know how to do that. What I don't have is the human experience. All the mechanical knowledge in the world isn't going to do me one picogram of good if I don't know personally how it works."

"Don't confuse security wit' surviallance. Even if you had dat kind of scanner on every point of entry in de mansion, which you can't, you'd need to be able to address it for just normal traffic. One of de kids brings a friend home, and suddenly got got de need for a full security team to vet and monitor you system constantly." Remy reached into his desk and pulled out a stack of file folders, flipping them open to reveal a moderately detailed layout of the mansion.

"De places dat Kuk has his sensors and monitoring systems works as a tier, which I'm sure he's told you. Each stage has a different threat perameter to create a response. Dat's good because right now, most of de system is automated and run through a single person. That's also part of de weakness. It means each stage has a certain about of flexibility built in to allow it to properly function, and dat's what you exploit." Remy tapped a couple of areas. "Dat's what we call de technical break; using de elements of de security system against itself. Making cameras see what you want dem to, sensors to register how you need, dat sort of thing. Like in Vegas."

Forge scrawled notes with one hand, typing on his PDA with the other as he listened to Remy's words. For the next hour, the Cajun explained as much of the basics as he could - methods of insertion, gate theory, aspects of security and surveillance that Forge realized resembled nothing less than an ever-changing computer firewall, continually needing to reinvent and upgrade itself to fight off new viruses.

"So I know where to start," Forge finally said, leaning back in the desk, frowning at the now-cold coffee at the bottom of his mug. "And you were right, there's got to be a line between vulnerability and turning the school into a fortress. But I think I can do it, the best of both worlds. I mean, take this coffee cup. To ninety-nine percent of the people in the world, it's just a utensil to drink from. But I hand it to you, and it's a weapon. A club, a bludgeon, a bomb. Because that's what you can do. To anyone else, that building's just a school, a home, or a workplace. But in my hands? It'll be more secure than any fortress."

He smiled across the desk, gathering up the papers and binders Remy had provided for research. "I know that when Doug asked me to work with you guys, I turned him down. I can guess that the stuff you're doing isn't going to ever get a handshake from grateful politicians or have people praising your names. Hell, from what I can figure, the idea is that people won't ever know you exist. But what you're doing, what people were talking about doing with the information you guys can gather - it needs doing. And I'm glad there's people like you to do it. You guys might not put on the uniforms, but what you do is needed. I know I can't be a part of it," he explained, "not with the things I need to do. But I know that despite what folks might think, you're really working to make the world a safer place for us. That's admirable."

"It's de job." Remy waved away his comments. Forge coming to grips with the dual nature of what they did was a sign of him growing up. At the same time, he still didn't really understand it. He couldn't, without actually being a part of it. The X-Men were the right place for him, Remy considered. Forge, more than anything else, looked desperate for something to believe in, and that's what the mansion could provide.

"Forge, dere's one thing dat you need to know when you're designing all of dis stuff. De weakest point of any security system is de people involved. If a professional really wants to get in, dey not going to try and break de system. Dey going to break de people who run it. Like I said, Xavier's is a school. Wit' a small team, I could have four or five of de kids off de streets and in a lockdown, and you tortured until you gave me all de details. De X-Men go after de kids, and while they're out, we hit de mansion wit' de countermeasures you would have provided." Remy's voice was flat and professional, which made it even more chilling. "De mansion is just a place; a thing. De people are how dey hurt you. And dere's nothing dat you can do to garauntee dat dey going to be safe. Remember dat de first time you system fails, and I tell you now dat it will fail at some point, dat dere's a limit to what you can do."

Forge nodded sagely. "I know that now. I was one of those people, you know. Malice grabbed me," he snapped his fingers, the metal on metal click echoing off the office walls, "just like that. And I know, that could happen again. Another one of Mr. D's old war buddies wanting to get some leverage on him, the Brotherhood taking a strike at the X-Men, anyone with an agenda could accomplish it. I can't protect everyone all the time. But what I can do, I intend on doing better than anyone's ever seen."

"Bien. De worst thing dat a security designer can do is lose dat flexibility or innovation because dey stop trusting demselves over something dat dey not responsible for." Remy leaned back in his chair and thumped his cane on the floor. "I'd make a comment 'bout how Remy looking forward to breaking your security, but dat's not so likely anymore." He punctuated that by pulling out a pill bottle and dryswallowing a couple of tablets, a ritual that Forge had noticed was quite frequent.

"Hey, this cripple got in and out of a high-security casino office suite through the air vents pretty effectively, if you recall," Forge insisted. "But yeah, right now all it'd take would be some butter on the stairs and let gravity do the rest. I suppose those who still can, do, and those who can't, teach."

He stood up, holding his hand out to Remy. "Thanks for the first lesson, then."

"Something like dat. Good luck, Forge." Remy leaned over to shake the man's hand before Forge left the office, notes under his arm. Remy gathered up his folders, and with a final look at the notes he'd made on the mansion plans, stuff them back into the desk and turned back to work.

However, hanging out at the Center means a high chance of running into people Forge would rather not. Unfortunately, when one of those people happens to be one of the chief researchers for the Center, confrontation can't be avoided. Forge and Amanda hash out some long-buried issues, and significant hostility bubbles to the surface.

Forge adjusted his tie, closing the door to the office behind him. Remy had been more than helpful and forthcoming - the binders under his arm were packed with printouts of SAS training manuals, as well as copious amounts of notes Forge had taken from both men. This was going to make the security system practically airtight, he thought to himself. A better mousetrap indeed.

Of course, now the mousetrap before him was just as daunting. Because the walk to the stairway took him directly past the desk where a familiar blonde (okay, so the blonde wasn't all that familiar, but still) girl sat with her attention split between a stack of printouts and two separate computer screens.

Forge debated the merits and risks of vaulting out the window and going down via the fire escape versus walking past Amanda, and steeled his courage as he decided for the latter.

Amanda, for her part, had been studiously not paying attention to the meetings going on. Forge was here on business and it certainly wasn't any of hers. Except now he was done and there was something that had been bothering her, nagging at her like a bad tooth. So as he walked past (his posture screaming 'studied nonchalance') she asked, deceptively quietly:

"So, this problem you have with me. Do I ever get to know what it is or are you going to honour the Xavier's tradition of keeping it to yourself?"

Clenching his fists, Forge let out a long breath between his teeth, then set his binders on an empty desk and leaned on it for support. "Yeah, fine. Why the hell not?" he said tersely. "I can get that you were pissed at me after Charlie because I stopped helping you with your magic studies. And so fine, you didn't bother lifting a finger to help find me after Malice grabbed me - hey, hell of a way to carry a grudge, but that's how it goes, I guess. But you could have looked past that and tried to keep Lorna from going through that hell. Were you really that petty that you couldn't have used all that 'vast magical power'," he rolled his eyes for emphasis, "for a simple hocus-pocus WhereIs spell?"

Amanda just gaped at him, open-mouthed. "You thought that I... and I didn't because I was... Are you completely mental?" she asked at last. Heads turned at the slight rise in pitch and she blushed a little and lowered her voice marginally. "I've never been pissed off at you about not helping with the magic. After Charlie died..." She swallowed a little convulsively and went on. "After that, how could I blame you for wanting out? And it sure as hell wasn't the reason why I didn't use the magic to find you."

"No?" Forge asked with an arched eyebrow. "Let me guess, not strong enough? You were just fine to bring Remy back from the brink of death - which I can't fault you for. He's a good guy as trained killers go. Or was it Playtime with Manuel that day? What was more important, Amanda? Some kind of object lesson?" he stood up straight, months of repressed anger coming out in the tone of his voice, if not the volume. "Was that it? See how I liked it, being used by someone just for my power? Okay, lesson learned, it sucks. Pretty harsh way of proving a point."

Amanda sucked in a deep breath, willing herself to be calm, even though it hurt to realise Forge thought she'd be capable of something that... cruel. Then again, her actions last year, why was she surprised. "Do you have any idea what it took, what I did to get the power to save Remy?" she asked at last, almost calmly. Looking up from her desk, she met his eyes. "Did they tell anyone?"

Forge shook his head. "I know enough to figure it out. I read his medical report, I know what Malice did to him. And hell, I was just in with him," he jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Even getting to that point would have taken the equivalent of another life. And since you're still here, and no one's accused you of outright murder, I'm guessing you siphoned from everyone around. Real smooth there. The ends really do justify the means, right?"

"Selene taught me that magic's in everything, that it wasn't mystic energy I was using, it was the energy in everything. Life, if you want to be blunt about it. And yeah, I used what - who - was available. Without asking. I just reached out and took what I needed." The words came out flat, emotionless. "And it still wasn't enough to fix all the damage. And maybe Lorna had the right of it, maybe doing that risked my soul, made me a monster. But the upshot of it is Remy's not dead and somehow I can't apologise for that." She was getting off-track here. "But that's not why I couldn't find you. Couldn't, not wouldn't, mind. The same reason I couldn't use energy from Haroun, even though he was down there in medlab - the metal. I can't work metal and you've got enough of it in you to block the magic. Same reason why I couldn't do anything when you broke your arm."

Forge pointed at Amanda accusingly, but no words came from his mouth. Shaking his hand, he stalled for thought. "That can't be... it's not... but..."

Was it really that simple?

Of course. TWO world-class magnetopaths in close proximity would probably have been as effective mystically as putting Forge under Fort Knox when it came to the whole weird interaction Amanda's magic had with metal. But that didn't explain...

"...well, shit," he finally squeaked out, hanging his head in shame. "I am zero for lots today when it comes to stupid preconceptions."

"Yeah, you really are." The words came out evenly, without actual anger but it took all of the training she'd been receiving so far to keep it and the hurt out of her voice. "Then again, I don't blame you. I had gone to the vampiric evil bitch of the Hellfire Club for help with my powers, after all. Why shouldn't you think I'd leave you in the hands of Magneto just because I was pissed off at you." Okay, perhaps a bit on the lines of passive aggressive, but fuckitall, all this could have been prevented with a bloody simple question. And it hurt, knowing Forge thought that little of her.

"I just..." Forge turned his head, ashamed to try and look Amanda in the eye. "I kept thinking there should have been some way, somehow someone could have done something - prevented all that. That's what terrified me about you, deep down, you know?" The admission was difficult, but as long as everything was getting set out on the table...

"You brought Kevin back from the damn dead so Jay could say his goodbyes. You practically healed the sick, made the lame to walk and the blind to see - christ, Amanda, there weren't any limits to what you were capable of. And you know what they say about power corrupting. I just... I wanted someone to blame. And it wasn't fair that I laid it all on you."

Her snort wasn't particularly mirthful. "Six months ago, I probably would have let you blame me, found something to make it my fault. Because that's the thing with having that sort of power - yeah, it seems like you can do anything, but then you start thinking you should do everything. And no-one can. There's a reason there's limits and it's not because people are jealous or scared of our power. It's because no-one can handle that much responsibility, not without it crushing them in the end. I ended up making a deal with Selene because I was losing my grip on things. And it seemed like everywhere I turned, the people I needed to help me weren't there." She looked down at her desk, fingers playing with the corners of her printouts, making them dog-eared. "That's why I gave it up, in the end. That much power... I couldn't handle it any more. Not the cost and not the responsibility."

"When they got me and Lorna back," Forge said after a small bit of pensive silence, "I'd managed to completely wipe out my powers. No more mechanical intuition, no more inventions. And that short time until Marius jumpstarted them again, I had to learn who I was without them. And in a way, it was almost a relief," he confessed. "To be able to have that lifted, to be normal, to not have to deal with the responsibility it brought. But it was temporary - that easy life isn't who I am. It's not who we are."

Hands in his pockets, he finally looked up at Amanda. "I'm sorry I thought you'd... I mean, that you wouldn't have helped. The stuff you're doing here - it's good work. That's who you are. Yeah, we've all made stupid choices and some of them bite us in the ass more than the others." He raised his left arm for emphasis. "Some cost us an arm and a leg, even. But it's who we are."

She nodded, accepting the apology. The rest... well, that would bear thinking on, wouldn't it? "I'm glad we got it out in the open. Maybe talking can't fix everything, but at least you know where you stand afterwards. And if there had been anything I could have done, I would have. In a heartbeat." Then she smiled, a little shyly and said, diffidently: "And maybe sometimes when you're in the neighbourhood, you could drop by, do coffee or something."

Forge laughed. "ESU's only a couple blocks from here, you know. And I'm supposed to meet Rams-- Doug," he corrected himself, "for lunch in a few. And is it 'do coffee' now? Look who's got herself all young urban professionalized." He smirked as he picked up his binders. "Next you're going to start shopping at Old Navy and reading Cosmo. And there'll be a mob of angry Brighton teens picketing your door and calling you a sellout."

She poked her tongue out at him. "I'll catch you later, then. And I've been talking to way too many personal assistants to this or that Very Important Wanker. Besides, when in Rome..." She grinned suddenly and stuck her foot out from behind her desk so he could see the Doc Marten boot under the leg of her plain black slacks. "There are limits, tho'."

"I'll let the mob know they can take the day off, then," Forge quipped, giving Amanda a quick wave and heading for the stairs.

On a less-hostile note, Forge and Doug meet for lunch in New York, and catch up on gossip. Surprisingly, it seems to be the day for apologies and fixing past misunderstandings. Of course, being these two, all-new misunderstandings are had.

The Bridge Cafe was one of the 'hipper' lunch spots for the young urban crowd in New York City, and Forge had to repress a quick feeling of panic at so many people dressed like they had come straight from a GQ photo shoot, chattering away on cell phones or in animated conversations with their lunch companions.

Folding his suit coat over his arm, he managed to locate Ramsey at an outdoor table and made his way through the crowd, accepting a menu from a harried waitress and sliding into the chair across from Doug. "Research must be paying pretty well," he deadpanned, taking a quick glance at the menu. "Saw the system you had set up in the office there. I must say, I am impressed, my man."

"Research pays -very- well," Doug replied easily. "That and the brownstone make up for the fact that I've had to work like a fiend to get that system set up. And now that it's built, Pete wants version 2.0 yesterday. You know, rebuild it better than it was." He shrugged. "But I have to admit that the work has been rewarding so far. I mean, I dropped everything to go to San Diego, and all they said was 'keep us updated'. I couldn't have done that at a 9-to-5." He grimaced. "But the downside is dealing with LeBeau."

"I just got out of an hour-long meeting with him," Forge explained, figuring he'd leave his conversation with Amanda best unmentioned, "He knows his stuff. Probably why he's so demanding about it. Speaking of which," Forge reached into his pocket and slid a CD over to Doug as he sipped a glass of water. "Specs for a redundant system. It's not patented, of course, but I doubt you're going to go resell it for a quick buck."

"Yeah, he does know his stuff. That and the fact that they pay me enough means that I don't complain -too- much about dealing with LeBeau." He made the CD disappear into a pocket almost through prestidigitation. "Besides, I managed to keep my winnings from the tables in Vegas on top of my salary, so I've got some investments." He shrugged, almost embarassed at discussing how easily he'd slipped into the working world. He had to work his butt off, and he was doing correspondence work for college credit, but at the end of the day, even when he fell into bed exhausted from uncountable hours in the server room, he felt like he'd done something important.

"And then there's the other stuff," Forge said with a nod, "You guys did good work in San Diego, helping out the rescue crews. That's just... you don't get any credit for it, I know. And you should." He paused to give his order to a waitress and get a refill of his water. "This past week, everything going on - I realize I had to take a good look at priorities. Not just sitting on the sidelines when stuff needs to be done that I can help with. More than just the emergencies, you know?"

"It wasn't about recognition," Doug corrected. "I could have gone in the leathers, and been recognized that way." Even with Lorna's EMP, the X-Men had been too obvious in San Diego to completely ignore. The footage of Rogue carrying Shamu to a safe location had been a favorite in the week following the earthquake. "But I did just as much good with a Red X windbreaker on my back as I would have in leathers. There was so much that needed to be done, so people just chipped in and did it. Not for recognition, but because it was the right thing to do." He waved a hand. "Getting recognized is nice, don't get me wrong." And the note in Forge's voice drew him to lean forward. "How do you mean? I mean, you already do a lot of good with your power, Forge. Don't sell yourself short."

"The X-Men, even the Red-X stuff..." Forge stammered, laying his hands flat on the table to keep them steady. "It's stuff I can't do. I just... I'm not ready for things like that. I don't know if I ever will be. And I can recognize that, I'm not about to go train up and put on a uniform when I'm not sure that I won't freeze up in the middle of something and get someone killed. Every time I even think about it, I almost get sick to my stomach, afraid of even the thought of going into something like that."

He took a deep breath, staring at his hands before swallowing and looking up at Doug with a smile. "I'm not brave like you guys. But I do what I can. And after talking with Mr. Kuk, and the Professor, and Scott... I'll be internind with Mr. Kuk the end of the summer," Forge explained with a note of pride. "He's teaching me the ropes, and I'll be helping out with handling security for the school."

Doug looked at Forge, noting the pride in the other man's voice. It was pride well deserved, as far as Doug thought. But he also thought Forge rather sold himself short. "A hero is no braver than an ordinary man, he is only brave five minutes longer," he quoted, trying to remember where he'd heard the phrase. He shook his head minutely, as that was secondary to the conversation. "And like I said, it's about doing what needs doing. This is something that needs doing, and you've decided to do it. That's definitely something to take pride in." Doug grinned. "Besides, it's not like you wouldn't be great at it. I bet you've already got five different ideas for stuff you can build to make the mansion safer."

"Remy's given me a lot to work with," Forge agreed. "You know the saying, 'to catch a thief'? Well, if I'm trying to build a better mousetrap, I'm going to get the sneakiest mouse around for consulting. Although I doubt we need to worry about him breaking into the medlab and knocking any more doctors senseless," he quipped. "Right now I get the feeling he'd have trouble beating up a sick puppy."

"I wouldn't put any bets down," Doug said with a wry smile. "I wouldn't bet against him even if he was quadruplegic. I may not like the guy at all, but I will admit that he's a sneaky bastard. Sneakier than he probably lets on. Because nothing helps a sneaky bastard like being underestimated." He shrugged. "But yeah, having him consulting is probably a very good idea." He sipped at his iced tea, then looked down at the table. "How have things been at the school?" he asked in what he hoped was a casual tone.

"Jay's going back to Kentucky," Forge said as their lunch came and he began to add an insane amount of steak sauce to his burger. "Marius bailed out of the medlab when everyone started getting brought in from San Diego, and is currently god-knows-where. Julio, that's the kid from last week... he's adapting. School's going to be good for him."

Between bites, Forge thought for a while. "Everyone's in this weird state of catharsis, you know? This odd calm after the storm. But no huge drama, not since... well..." He left the sentence unfinished. It was pretty common knowledge that Doug and Angie's breakup had been pretty much the high point of drama for the past few months.

"Since I had a screaming fight and broke up with my girlfriend in the lobby of the mansion in front of God and man?" Doug asked wryly. "You can say it," he told the other man. "It's not like you'll likely say anything I haven't thought to myself." That and worse.

He took a big bite of his burger. "Jay going back to Kentucky...can't say I'm totally surprised. I mean, I wasn't as close to him as you, but I always got the sense that he was wanting to make it big in country, and since he's graduated...I imagine we'll be hearing his name soon enough. Marius is missing?" he raised an eyebrow. "Like off the grounds missing, or just holed up in a room where nobody can find him missing? I can keep an ear to the ground if you need," he offered. He had to admit, as much as he enjoyed his job, and living in the brownstone, he missed the mansion and the closeness of living with everyone there. It felt good to catch up on the latest gossip.

"Not sure. If we get any leads... I appreciate the help," Forge admitted. "And about the Marie-Ange thing... I owe you an apology. I really had my head up my ass with some of the things I said. You guys - I mean, you and Kitty both, I never really was fair to either of you. The fact that you could juggle so many things, and make it look so easy - I envy that. And I am... realizing the error of my ways," he said, unable to repress a smile. "If what I said caused you and Marie-Ange's argument, then if you need any help making things right, just ask."

Doug blinked as if Forge had suddenly found a language that his mutant power wouldn't translate. He was...taken aback, to put it mildly. Of all the words to ever come out of Forge's mouth, Doug had never expected to hear the ones he'd just heard. "It was never easy," he said slowly after a long pause. "And we were having problems even before then. The stuff you said, and my arguments with you were just...a catalyst," he explained, putting it in comfortable terms. And then the rest of what Forge had said registered. "Realizing the error of your ways?" he asked, looking at the silly smile on his face. "Spill."

"Nothing to spill," Forge insisted, but found himself unable to stop smiling. "Just... potential. Being shown that there is more to life other than the lab and the workshop. It's... nice," he concluded. "And it's causing me to reevaluate a lot of stupid opinions I've had. This seems to be the day for that."

"Potential's good," Doug agreed. "And...I'm happy for you." He honestly was, even if he wasn't quite sure what he was doing with the shambles of his own love life. He took another bite of his sandwich to cover the morbid turn his thoughts had taken.

While never much one for picking up subtle emotional cues, Doug's attitude was anything but subtle. "Second thoughts?" he asked. "I mean, if you two can look past the whole screaming argument thing, it's obvious you're both totally insane for each other still. Get over it and talk to her already."

"Insane for each other?" Doug swallowed his bite of his sandwich heavily. "We managed to talk civilly during the stuff in San Diego, but that may have just been a function of being exhausted, not to mention the huge freakin' earthquake," he replied. "I don't know if we can look past the whole screaming argument thing or not. She came over to yell at me about hitting my classmate in the face when I found out what he'd done to her with his power." He shrugged. "Besides, I asked Marie on a date." And wasn't that confusing, trying to distinguish between his ex-girlfriend and the girl he was going to go on a date with. But if he'd called her 'Em', that could have been mistaken for Monet's nickname, even though Monet had long since left the school to find her fortune.

"Marie? Tell me that's short for Marie-Ange and not..." The look on Doug's face gave Forge the answer, and prompted a quick spasm of coughing in surprise. "Well. Um. That's... swell? How do you, uh... you know, if she can't touch anyone? That's got to really suck."

"It's not all about sex, Forge," Doug said exasperatedly, as he might to a small child. "And what, she's not as deserving of affection as anyone else just because she can't necessarily do the horizontal polka?" Doug smiled, a dreamy sort of look in his eyes. "Besides, I have a few...ideas of my own."

"Agh!" Forge said, flailing his hands in the air. "I meant like, what if you accidentally go to wipe a crumb of sandwich off her face and -ZAP!- there goes your brain? Jeez, Doug, even my brain doesn't go there all the time. Although... yeah, that would be a little weird. But Marie's nice. And... you're sure that's not going to cause any drama back at the mansion? Because, y'know, X-Men training or not, super-strong invulnerable power-stealer versus sometimes-crazy precog? Over too quickly to be even an enjoyable catfight."

"I doubt there will be a catfight," Doug said defensively, trying to cover his embarassment at misreading what Forge had meant. "Marie-Ange went her way, I went mine." He shrugged diffidently. "And I was thinking of investing in a pair of gloves myself," he admitted. "I mean, why should she be the only one who has to wear them, the only one who has to be careful about it? It seemed like it'd be a nice thing to do, and she deserves to have nice things done for her."

"Good way to look at it," Forge admitted, mopping up the last of his steak sauce with a french fry. "Either way, it's like I've come to realize - just because you're helping save the world doesn't mean you can't take time to enjoy it. Even Scott took a vacation a few weeks back. I know, we were shocked."

"That's a good realization to come to," Doug nodded, drenching his french fry in the large amount of ketchup he'd put on the plate. "And Scott, vacation? Wow. Should I start carrying around a sign that says 'the end is nigh'?" he joked.

"That would be..." Forge cocked his head suddenly in confusion, then reached for the buzzing PDA on his hip. "Oh, wonderful. Text from my publisher. Why do I need to go to a meeting about publishing distribution for the paperback? Jesus, this is why people have agents, isn't it?" Reaching into his pocket, Forge slid a few bills onto the table for his lunch. "I swear, if it's not evil mutant terrorists, it's going to be bureaucracy and administrative crap that's the death of me. Catch you next Thursday?" he asked. "I expect to become fluent in an entirely new level of Askani profanities after what Mr. D's done to his psimitar."

"If you run out of them and need help on the level after that, I'm your man," Doug replied. He would have pushed Forge's money back and offered to pay himself, but he knew Forge was getting royalties on his book, and he didn't want to offend the other man's prickly pride anyway. "Take care, and I'll see you then."