xp_logs | Log: Cammie and Forge

x-scorpion.livejournal.com posting in

Wherein Cammie almost hits Forge with a book-turned-basketball and proceeds to ask the most important question one can about a piece of technology.

After a certain point, just sitting in bed was boring. It was about the same point that poking at stitches, no matter how well bandaged up also became boring. It didn't help that her CD player had been water damaged beyond repair.

Her one book... was a slightly different story, but it was still hard to read anything when half the letters looked almost washed off the page and it had gone from being soaking to brittle after being put out to dry.

"Alas, poor Helter Skelter," Cammie muttered, as turning the page almost tore it out, "I knew ye well. Oh well," she poked her head out of her 'room' and went looking for another garbage can. "And she shoots...!" Cammie started, making a jump shot the best she could with the water damaged book towards another garbage can.

Forge walked around the corner, jerking his head back just in time to avoid the flying book, which bounced off the wall and into the trash bin with a loud clang. "And the new girl hits the three," he responded as he regained his composure after the momentary startling. "Dare I ask what the poor book did to offend?"

"Yes!" she said after making the shot. Cammie didn't even look sheepish for almost pegging someone in the head. Though she supposed it would've been polite, she didn't really care all that much, "Nothing really, other than being read a few hundred times and then water damaged beyond repair." There were only so many times she could read about blood-thirsty hippies, really.

"Ah yes," Forge mused, peering into the trashcan. "The downside of paperbacks, they're rather perishable. Sorry, we haven't been introduced, have we? I'm John Forge, resident genius." He stepped forward and held his hand out before noticing Cammie's bandaged arm. "Aaaand it looks like you've already checked off the 'show up injured' box on your Xavier Institute Bingo card. I'd say it makes you part of an exclusive club, but the crowd's a lot bigger than you'd think."

"There's a Bingo card? I feel ripped off," Cammie quipped. She ignored how he introduced himself. 'Resident Genius' seemed one hell of a title, "So, I'm supposed to be upset that I'm not the only pincushion here?" She had the hole in her side, scrapes all over and all because some guy thought she had swiped his wallet. She hadn't, she checked her bag. Not one of them had an ID in there. "And yeah, everyone talks about building a better mousetrap, but no one ever builds a better book."

"Bah, digital delivery is the future of information," Forge said, peering at Cammie's bandage-wrapped arm. "Hey, have the doctors taken a look at that? Your fingers, they look a bit green. I'm no medic, but that's a bad thing, isn't it?"

"What, this?" Cammie asked, holding up her left hand, "Oh, it's nothing. Just gangrene." With her tone she could have been totally serious or completely messing with him. She left it up to him to figure it out.

In response, Forge held up his left hand as well, the chrome and wires of his prosthetic arm reflecting the fluorescent lights of the medlab. "I could always build you a new one if the biological's getting to be a problem. I do have a one-limb-per-customer rule, though. No warranties."

Cammie blinked, "Okay, that is offically one of the most awesome things I've seen. But I don't really need a new arm, mine's always like this. I don't really have gangrene," she said. And he got a few points for not going 'eww' and backing off. Which was the general reaction.

"Fascinating," Forge mumbled, attention still focused on Cammie's bandaged arm. "Natural consequence of mutation? You don't seem to be in ill health - aside from whatever's got you taking up residence down here. Speaking of, has anyone been by to get you set up on the journal system? If you're going to be here for an extended stay, that is."

"Um, yeah. It's 'cause of the whole mutant thing," she said, waving her left hand, "It goes up the whole arm, actually. The green," she left out the part about it poisoning people. "And no? I mean, I was thinking about staying... I really don't have anywhere else to go." And she still didn't feel up to traveling, with the hole in her side.

Smiling, Forge ticked off points on his fingers. "Comes in injured, check. Don't have anywhere else to go, check. Have any evil parents or ties to secret government organizations? Don't answer that, rhetorical. Anyway, I'll go grab you a laptop and phone, and show you how to get everything set up." Noticing Cammie's hair, he chuckled out loud. "And since our previous emerald-tressed resident isn't around to say it anymore; welcome to the madhouse, Miss...?"

Cammie raised her eyebrow. What kind of place was this? Oh well, it was better out of the frying pan and into the fire than staying in the frying pan and getting shot for something that wasn't her fault. She did chuckle at the image of her parents as evil though. Well, her adopted parents. You could only get away with that if you considered the special type of insanity small towns installed in people 'evil.'

"Cammie," she offered, "That or any of ten million other names I've managed to come by." She paused, "I get a laptop?"

Forge nodded. "The Professor believes that open communication between the residents here; students and staff, and folks peripherally involved with the Institute will better foster a community atmosphere and enable a shared informational experience for the betterment of all involved. So, yeah, laptop. Sort of like a 'welcome to the mutant network' present. We're cool like that."

This was... all too much. Instead of letting that sink in she said the first thing that came to mind, "That's great, but can you use it for porn?" she asked with a grin. That was a joke. Mostly.

"You wonder why the 'net was born?" Forge sang in response, before coughing into his hand. "Sorry, Kyle sings that song all the damn time. It's an audio virus, I tell you. Anyway! Laptop, phone, network setup... need a sandwich or anything while I'm running around?"

That got a chuckle from her. She knew the song. You had to if you had been near a computer hooked to the Internet sometime in the last couple of years. "A phone too? And I think I'll go out on a limb here, I'm tired of getting stuff that tastes like nothing so you'll have my undying loyalty if you can snag me a glass of antifreeze. I don't even care what brand at this point."

That finally got Forge to raise an eyebrow in astonishment. "You're serious? You're not like, suicidal or anything because really, antifreeze poisoning? Not the best way to go when you're surrounded by medical personnel." He thought for a bit, then shrugged. "All right then. Laptop, phone, and a cup of Prestone. Be back in a bit. Nice to meet you, Cammie," he said with a smile as he headed back around the corner. "This should be interesting."

If he actually did bring the antifreeze up with him, she'd have to let out a girlish squeak. Other than dousing food in hot sauce she hadn't really had anything she could actually taste. Which wasn't an insult to the people feeding her or anything, but this was like a regression to home before she had run off. Having to hide some of her more unusual tastes. That she didn't care for.

"Thanks!" she called after him. Which she fully meant - provided he did indeed return with anti-freeze.