xp_logs | Jay & Forge, Wednesday night

In the search for a place where they can be away from everyone else, Jay and Forge bump into each other in Boiler Beach. They talk about some of the stuff that's bothering them, especially the crazy people who live with them. Jay even gets Forge to sleep by playing him some Jason Mraz.

The boiler room really wasn't such a bad place after all, Forge decided. A blanket and jeans kept the sand from getting into awkward places, and the water sloshing through the pipes overhead was almost oceanlike and soothing. Adjusting his sunglasses, he reached behind his head to ball up his sweater, using it as a pillow. Exhaling, he tried to let the anger and the stress out like Dr. Samson had taught him. For a few minutes, he didn't have to be torn between stress, worry, and more stress. For a while, he could just be sitting on a beach somewhere relaxing under the sun.

It probably would have helped the illusion along if he'd turned the lights on, but he wasn't exactly looking to be disturbed, Forge thought. Nevertheless, it was quiet, and no one was around.

Jay had been trying to play something - anything - all afternoon, but his fingers didn't seem to be working right. It must be the four boring walls of his room that were stifling his ability to play. But where else could he go? It was too cold to go outside, and the music room was probably busy . . .

Slinging his guitar over his shoulder, Jay left his room. There was one room that was big enough that he could play in, and no one would be there. Opening the door to the Boiler Beach and flipping on the light switch, he headed down.

Forge cracked one eye as the lights came on. No one should have expected him to be here, who in the hell would be...?

"Oh," he said, turning his head slightly to see his roommate coming down the stairs with his guitar. "Hey, Jay. Looking for someplace to play?"

Someone was actually down there? Damn. Continuing down, Jay saw his roommate lying down and looking particularly comfortable. "Oh, hey dude. Didn't know anyone was down here. Iffn ya were sleepin', Ah can head back . . ."

Forge waved a hand, squinting behind his sunglasses at the lights. "Nah, just thinking. Or trying NOT to think, more accurately. I don't know, between Dani and your sister, I'm not sure who's crazier. No offense meant."

Jay snorted and took a seat on the sand by Forge. "None taken. Paige is often off her rocker." His fingers automatically found the guitar strings, and started absently strumming. Nothing in particular, just a random tune. "What'd she say to ya? Beyond the not-so-vague flirtin', that is."

"Just the usual I get from everyone who thinks they want to 'help'," Forge didn't try and disguise the bitterness. "Dani's pissed because I asked for a bit of privacy to work with, y'know," he tapped his metal leg, "stuff. And so everyone assumes I'm being some kind of recluse asshole, and then your sister - she means well. But I know patronizing when I hear it, and it gets to you, you know?" He dropped his head back, missing his sweater and frowning as he felt sand in his hair. "I mean, I may not be some circus freak hunchback Phantom of the Opera, but that doesn't mean I like showing off the... well."

He sighed, pulling the edge of his shirt up on his left side. Thick winding ropes of scar tissue stretched up from his waistband to the edge of his lower ribs. "Losing a leg isn't exactly a clean injury, you know."

Jay couldn't help but gasp and recoil a bit. "Sorry, man," he said, ashamed that he'd reacted that way to Forge of all people. "Um, iffn ya don't mind mah askin' - and ya can totally ignore the question if ya want and Ah won't push or nuthin' - but how'dja lose it?"

"Oh," Forge grimaced slightly. "Explosion. Caught my hand and leg, and septic infection did the rest. Missing a good chunk of the guts in there, too. Probably why I don't put on weight no matter how much I eat." He decided now probably wasn't the time to let Jay in on the details of how everything had come about, but he made a note to. Someday.

Jay hesitantly reached a hand out to briefly touch the scars. "Damn," he said with a low whistle, withdrawing his hand. "We all lead such excitin' lives. In the way that's, y'know, not any fun. So. Paige wants ta see your ass and ya think she's patronizin' ya?" Nice change of topic, if he did say so himself.

Forge let himself laugh out at that. "No one wants to see that, trust me. Was bad enough that I had to run out Monday night in just my boxers. Thankfully I grabbed a sheet on the way. I mean, sure, I clean up nice - but clothes have kind of got to make the man in my case." He spread his arms in front of him, frowning. "Doctor McCoy recommended I spend some time in the gym outside of P.E., fill out a little. Eh," Forge shook his head dismissively. "Not too keen on the idea."

Jay shrugged. "Meh. Ah wouldn't worry none about that. He's just sayin' that 'cuz he's a doctor and doctors gotta say stuff like that." And Forge looked nice enough already, but Jay wouldn't say that, even if he meant it totally platonically. Because guys don't say stuff like that to each other, oh no. "Or ya could just see iffn ya can't steal mah mutation. The docs say mah body is made ta burn fat and build muscle so's Ah can fly."

"Yes, hence the whole 'carved from granite' physique. Terry's not exactly subtle about being appreciative." Forge gave a quick sarcastic smile. "You, uh, did let her know she's barking up the wrong tree there, right?"

Jay rolled his eyes and grinned at Forge. "'Course she knows. We're just teasin' each other 'bout who's prettier. Ah don't even remember why we started that . . ." He paused to think, but couldn't remember, so he shrugged. "And Ah can hardly help it if Ah looked like one of those Greek statues. 'Cept without the small, y'know . . ." he trailed off, blushing again. "And Ah just sent conversation to the bad place."

"This is me and my selective hearing," Forge quipped, "but I do digress. Could be worse. You could have a completely obsessive complex about your mutation like Kyle. Granted, it's all still kind of new to him." He raised up on an elbow, folding his sunglasses into his pocket. "You got lucky there, you've got to admit."

"Thank the Lord Ah ain't got what he's got," Jay said with relief, "or mah temper surely would've gotten the better of me a thousand times by now." That freaking furball . . . "Ah guess Ah'm as lucky as a mutant can get. 'Cept Ah can't pass for normal, and these things can get really uncomfortable. Ah've had ta cut holes in all'a mah shirts just so Ah could put 'em on. And, well, Ah can't say that the healin' is as cool as everyone thinks. But Ah'll keep the multiple voices. No complaints there."

"There's irony for you," Forge snorted. "you get the mutation that helps make all the girls swoon, and it's as useful as a screen door on a submarine. Me? I get the mutant brain, and apparently your sister thinks that's the coolest thing on the planet." He immediately held up his hands, palms-out in defense. "Not that that changes anything, I'm so very aware how off-limits she is, even if she wasn't, you know, your sister."

"Well, it'd help me with the fellas if there were any other homos here, and Ah was really lookin'," Jay informed Forge dryly. "And Ah'm just givin' ya a hard time with her. Ah know she's good at makin' all her own decisions. S'just a good thing that none of mah other sisters are here, y'know. Iffn ya think Ah'm bad with Paige, then ya ain't seen nuthin' yet."

"But aren't they, like, twelve?" Forge asked, snickering madly. "No worrying there, man. And funny thing on that score - how come the computer keeps telling me Illyana's eight years old? Because if that's how they grow them in Mother Russia..." he smiled broadly, before waving a stiff-armed salute, "I may have to give this communism thing a shot."

"Ah have a whole lotta sisters. Jo's, like, fifteen . . . not that Ah'm tryin' ta hawk her off or nuthin'. And Ah dunno 'bout Illyana. Maybe they fed her somethin' over there. They musta given it to her brother too because damn, they don't make 'em here like they do over there." Jay grinned wickedly. "Think we can get 'em ta send us on a field trip ta Moscow?"

"I'll ask Mister Dayspring. I'll bet if we say we're interested in 'cultural expressionism', he'll have the plane booked in an hour," Forge sat up, shaking sand out of his hair and frowning at the errant locks that fell into his eyes. "But seriously, what is it with the girls here? Your sister did have a point. I mean, even the ones you don't normally notice. Seriously, have you SEEN Rahne lately?" Forge melodramatically wiped his forehead. "Metamorphs shouldn't be allowed to play dodgeball, by the way. Way too agile."

As he sat up further, Forge frowned, rapping his knuckles on his knee. "Oh, it just figures. The one day I forget maintenance is the one day a loose O-ring lets sand in there. I'll have to clean that out tomorrow."

"Y'know, Ah really ain't payin' much attention to the girls," Jay said, very briefly leering at his roommate before looking back at the guitar on his lap. "Ah dunno. Maybe this school ain't just for mutants. Maybe ya've gotta pass a Am I Hot Or Not test in order ta be
accepted." He looked at Forge's leg and raised an eyebrow. "Ah have no idea what you're talkin' 'bout. Well, Ah know ya got some sand chafin' ya, but Ah've never heard of an O-ring. My mechanical knowledge is limited ta fixin' tractors and basic car maintenance."

"O-ring. Gasket." Forge explained. "I'll show you sometime when I'm working on it. That is, you know, if you don't mind..." he motioned towards the scars again. "I always wondered about getting them removed, but never saw the point, really."

"Naw, they don't bother me," Jay insisted, "Ah just wasn't expectin' that. And you're tallkin' to the fella who tried ta poke holes in himself and really ought ta have scars. Ah kinda wish Ah did, actually . . ." His healing didn't permit scarring, which was one of the reasons he sometimes hated it so. How inhuman is it to not show any signs of damage? To just be able to get up and walk off without a scratch. Jay shook his head and brushed some hair behind his ear. "Ah wouldn't touch 'em. Iffn ya ain't gonna work out like Doc McCoy says, then your next best bet ta pickin' up chicks is showin' off your scars," he said with a grin.

Forge arched an eyebrow. "You're kidding. Besides, that'd mean walking around shirtless, and since I can't swim and don't go out running, it's not something I think would happen too often. Besides, these don't say I was some hardcore badass," Forge absently brushed his hand over his shirt, tucking it in. "They just say I was stupid."

"Nah, what'cha say is: 'I have this mutant brain, you know?'" he mimicked Forge's accent (or lack thereof, as some may put it). "'I can make whatever it is I think about. These here are from a mistake I made once, when I was inventing a clean energy alternative to fossil fuels.' Or some bullshit like that."

Forge snorted. "No, nothing like that. I'll... well, I suppose I'll tell you about it later, okay? Just... not right now? Been a pretty shitty week as is." He sighed and lay back down across the blanket. "Dr. McCoy's still sick, everyone's alternating between giddy and bitchy, and I've still got follow-ups to work on from last week's work, only the medlab's all turned upside down so that's put a delay on them. At least tomorrow's my easy class day. I can try and sneak in some sleep somewhere."

Jay shook his head. "Ya don't need ta tell me nuthin' iffn ya don't wanna. It ain't mah business. Ah mean, if ya wanna tell, then Ah'll listen. Heaven knows ya already done that for me." Smiling reassuringly, he patted Forge on the shoulder in that brief encouraging-but-with-minimal-contact kind of way. "Iffn ya thought that people were ridin' ya already, then ya might want ta get some shut-eye before they kind out ya ain't sleepin' much. Trust me. Ah lived with Paige, Ah know how unbearable she can get."

"You think?" Forge said with a brief yawn. "I suppose I can push the lab work back to tomorrow - hell, Friday. You're right, I should sleep. Thanks, Jay. Seriously." He sat up, hugging his knees to his chest briefly. "Sometimes I just need a little help clearing my head, you know?"

Jay snickered. "Dude, anytime. We need at least one person who ain't entirely off his rocker in our room. That's definitely not Kyle, and Ah'm hardly the poster boy for mental health mahself."

Forge laughed, pulling himself up to his feet. "And then we get Dani inviting herself over, and the loonie quotient just keeps going up. I think Catseye's the stablest one, really. When she's not deciding to tackle me randomly."

"Yeah, since when did we get a cat and a pregnant girl shacking up in our place anyway?" Jay asked, semi-amused. "Don't they got their own places? Or did X just decide to shove the crazies in with us?"

"Dani's apparently got a thing against having her own room," Forge explained, "and with just having had her husband, ex-husband, throw her out on the street only a few months ago, I figure it might take a while. As for Catseye," he smirked, "I don't even try and figure her out. Cats are harder to understand than girls."

"See, Ah had ta share a room with Jeb for, like, seven or eight years until Sam moved out and Ah could take his room for mahself. So Ah know all about livin' in really close quarters with people. But dang it, Ah love havin' mah own room. Ah couldn't go back ta livin' with other people like that." He shrugged and played a chord on his guitar. And then another. And a third.

"I got lucky enough to be an only child," Forge yawned, leaning back. "But Kyle? Not bad to share a room with. Dani's... a little weird. And I hardly even notice Catseye's there, really. She tends to spend a few hours a night sleeping everywhere, I think. As a cat, mind you, otherwise it'd be... weird."

Jay was finally actually playing music. And about damn time, he thought. He looked over at Forge as he let his fingers play. "Ah don't mind sleepin' with Catseye, no. As a cat, that is," he added hastily. "Cats make soothin' sounds when they're asleep and it's nice."

Grinning lazily, Forge nodded, closing his eyes and just listening to the music. "That she does. Don't mind at all." He stretched his arms out, folding them under his head and breathing deeply. The music was really nice, he thought. Good to relax to. And it wasn't like he was... going to... fall... asleep.

Jay was about to say more until he heard a faint snore come from Forge. Looking over and finding him asleep, Jay smiled. "Hands in line, arms close / to my side I'm fighting tides," he sang softly in two voices, "Of an ocean's undertows and I figure I might not make it / and I'm taking empty / but seldom speaking and the words retreat / yeah, they breathe in histories / still at ease / and the story's untold / and my arms unfold."