xp_logs | Forge and Jono: Sunday morning

After the Guys' Night Out, Forge is slightly worse for wear the next morning. Jono is possibly less than sympathetic.

Forge wandered through the hall to the kitchen, trying his best not to squint at the light. Whoever decided to make today so bright outside really had something to answer for. As did whoever used the last of the coffee in his suite. It may have been him, his mostly-numb brain reminded himself, but he filed that away as an inconsequential detail.

Note to self: Captain Morgan, no matter how friendly he seems, will stab you in the back the first chance he gets, Forge thought to himself as he dimmed the lights in the kitchen and fumbled with the coffee maker until it began to brew.

Jono had noticed Forge's morning-after shuffle, and had a pleasant mental image of the young inventor tumbling headfirst down the nearest flight of steps in such a condition. Then he realized he'd never hear the end of it if he let Paige's partner injure himself in such a state, so he pushed off the couch and wandered into the kitchen after Forge.

"The wages of sin, eh mate?" he ventured a psionic hello.

Forge winced and held his head. "Owwwww," he groaned, eyes clenched shut. "Do you have to be so goddamn loud in my head? I can barely tell right from left right now."

"Really now?" Jono teased, increasing the intensity of his psionic voice. "What a shame that must be."

Grimacing and downing a handful of aspirin, Forge poured a mug of coffee with shaking hands and downed half of it without waiting for it to cool down. A few pained yelps later, he stuck his head under the sink faucet, drinking directly from the cold water. "Bastard," he gasped out at Jono's smug form, which right now was just a big black blur against the big grey blur of the wall. "Some designated non-drinker you are. Jesus, at least tell me I didn't embarass myself at Silver..."

Jono pondered making up a story, then just shrugged and decided for honesty. "Wish I could tell you that you'd done something horrible, but you're a rather sedate drinker. At least you weren't getting all maudlin. That'd just have been embarassing."

Forge nodded, cradling his coffee mug like a lifeline. "Thank God for small favors. Where's the sugar?"

Jono slid the container across the counter to Forge and then narrowed his eyes in lieu of a smug smile. "Of course, it's a good thing none of the ladies were around. You did wax a bit rhapsodic comparing their various qualities."

Forge's eyes widened as he nearly sent his last drink of coffee through his sinuses. "Oh God, I didn't..."

With a nod, Jono confirmed that yes, he had. "If I remember correctly, on a scale of one to ten..."

Forge cut him off with a hand. "Okay, okay. Point made. How bad was I?"

"Extolling the benefits of tight uniforms during Danger Room training."

"...oh god..."

Jono finally gave in, reaching out to clap a hand on Forge's shoulder. "Relax, mate. S'part of going out with yer mates. Making a fool of yourself when there's no harm done. At least you didn't try and dance."

"Nevertheless," Forge vowed, "next time, I'm designated driver. Now," he said with a gleam in his eye. "since I've been reminded, I have some Danger Room training tapes to peruse."

Jono arched an eyebrow. "Anything worth sharing?"

"Always. Come on."