xp_logs | Forge and Lorna in the kitchen

x-polarisstar.livejournal.com posting in

Forge and Lorna have a friendly little chat. She is quite nice about telling him he was a jerk.

Lorna missed her kitchen. The gleaming countertops, the shiny new fridge, the industrial range that looked like the type of thing that could come alive at night and devour souls--she'd designed it from the ground up then hadn't been able to play with it. So not fair. Right now she was sitting at the kitchen table, pondering the menu Jamie and Rahne had proposed for the next week, marking changes where she thought necessary or adding suggestions on prep. A glance at the time told her Forge should be by soon. Switching screens, she double-checked that she'd already found the reference she was looking for, then flipped back.

Forge paused before entering the kitchen. Probably wouldn't be any use trying to turn around and leave, he reasoned. Lorna was the one person who could logically find him anywhere in the mansion. Her request to talk to him put him on edge slightly - ever since they'd argued about some of the views he held, he had made it a point not to irritate the woman. Especially once it had been pointed out to him that she could pretty much rip him to shreds - literally - with a thought. The concept of going back to being a humiliated, helpless cripple was one Forge preferred to avoid, hence why "Get on Lorna's Bad Side" had not been an agenda item on his calendar.

"Miss Dane?" he asked, noticing Lorna deep in thought at the table. "Is this a bad time? I can come back... or did you need something urgent? It's not Alex's suit, is it? There some kind of problem I can fix?"

Lorna looked up from the screen and smiled. "Hey, Forge. You can call me Lorna you know. You're not actually in one of my classes. Come sit down. I was just checking some work from the advanced cooking duo." She saved the work then nudged out the chair next to her, beckoning him over. "Alex's suit works great. The fields are holding sync nicely. You do really good work. Oh, I did want to ask if it was waterproof or not though. Thanks for reminding me."

"Okay... Lorna," Forge managed to force out. "Yeah, the suit's neoprene-based, actually. The reactive fibers in it don't have any different effect wet or dry, so not only is it waterproof, it's machine-washable." He paused, fidgeting awkwardly then opting to
slide onto a nearby barstool. "So you, um... needed something? I have to admit if you're springing that philosophy discussion on me, you have me at a pretty serious disadvantage here."

Lorna nodded and made a mental note to tell Alex. "No philosophy. A little psychology maybe but I'm not going to make you debate Kant. Yet. At least not until you've read Kant. Actually, I think you'd like some of the modern philosophers who…never mind, I'm getting off-track." She grabbed a bag off the floor next to her and tossed it to him left-handed. "I got you something. It's not super-cool, just a little thing."

Forge unfolded the black shirt from inside the bag and smiled at the Imperial logo from the Star Wars films. Either someone had neglected to tell Lorna about his disdain for the movies, or she'd meant it as a joke. Either way, he figured, it did look pretty cool.
"Thanks," he murmured. "You even remembered I'm on the small side of a Medium."

Fidgeting briefly again, he tapped his fingers together then looked cautiously at Lorna. "So... no pop psychology quiz and a gift. Paranoia tells me I'm being set up for something. Am I right?"

Lorna grinned at him, "Why does everyone always think I'm out to get them? Do I radiate menace or something?" She turned back to her computer and clicked over to the window she'd opened earlier, "I just wanted to know why I spent a week and I'm not even going to think about how much money unwinding Paige and then this." She gestured to the journal thread on her screen. She glanced back over her shoulder, expression still pleasantly curious and not upset. Yet.

"Ah," Forge said with a click of his tongue. "That. Yeah, I may have gone about things the wrong way there. I tried to apologize, she accused me of being passive-aggressive, and I figured it's safest to let her stew a bit until she comes back into a close orbit of sanity. What's her deal, anyway?" he asked earnestly. "I can figure she's stressed from running herself into the ground lately, but all she has to do is ease back. Doesn't she get that?

She rolled her eyes and turned back to face him again, "You might have done things the wrong way? You want to explain to me how needling her could possibly have been the right way? And by the way, if your apology consists of more words than 'I'm sorry I hurt your feelings' it's probably not a good apology. Just a tip."

Forge shrugged. "It seemed the logical way to deal with a problem. If I hear a car's engine making a knocking noise and it's belching smoke, I'm going to try and get under the hood and poke around to figure out what's wrong. Maybe I poked the wrong area. Oops. Results weren't as intended." He looked away briefly, then sighed. "Look, I don't know the first thing about whatever's eating at Paige. She tells me she's my friend, that she likes hanging out with me, all that stuff – and then clams up any time something bugs her. Seems simple enough that all you have to do is remove the problem and things should be better. Only she's not letting me know what the problem is, and either she can't fix it herself or she doesn't want it fixed."

"Or maybe people aren't machines." Lorna suggested. "We're not neat and logical creatures. We weren't built that way." She crossed her good leg over her bad one and leaned on her knee, chin propped on her hand. "Here's the thing. You can't fix people. You can confront them, you can support them, you can take them on trips to places where they are away from the usual pressures but you can't fix them. Paige needs a chance to unwind and back off, you're right about that but I wasn't trying to fix her."

"Can't you?" Forge asked right back. "Or are you saying that once you're broken, that's it? You crack, you screw up, you fall down and there's nothing that can be done to make it better? Man, and I thought I had a depressing outlook on life."

He leaned in further, elbow on his knees and hands open and gesturing. "See, I know people don't behave like machines. Machines make sense. But I also believe everything has a reason. If I move my arm, it's because the muscles contracted because a chemical reaction triggered it because a nerve impulse told it to because I willed it to. The Jeep's engine works because of a simple chain of internal combustion. Cause and effect works for everything, not just machines. And if the effect is that Paige is under some pressure, then it can be traced back to a cause." He shrugged absently. "Call me a stupid teenager, but I'd like to hope she's my friend. And I was under the impression you were supposed to help out your friends when they need it."

Lorna shook her head, "I'm actually not being depressing. I said you can't fix people not people can't be fixed. It's like…" she paused, searching for an explanation and with a shrug decided that nothing illustrated like personal experience. "Look, it's kind of an open secret that I'm an anorexic. A year ago I was under a hundred pounds and still thought I was fat. That's broken thinking. Alison pushed me about it and we had a huge fight. But that didn't make me better. Having the problem shoved in my face by someone else wasn't the solution. I had to see it myself. And then seeing it, I had to decide to change it. And it's not instant." She shrugged, "It's even worse when it's not something physical that's wrong. 'The heart has reasons that reason know not of.' Sometimes there isn't an obvious cause or a button to push. In my case, anorexia, as any health class will tell you, is a symptom not the actual problem. You have to deal with all of it. It's not just eating properly. It's not just backing off doing too much." She looked away, shaking her head. This wasn't easy for her and she didn't have any idea how much good it was doing. "Am I making sense?"

Forge sat quietly for a moment. "I think so," he finally said. "It's just frustrating. I mean, she's this great girl who's got so much going for her. But she's still unhappy and not dealing and I don't know what I can do help other than offer stupid platitudes." He smiled
weakly and gave a small chuckle. "Did you know my power doesn't come with an off switch? It's always running a million miles an hour, I'm always seeing new things to build, new ways to make machines run, new systems to implement. I guess I start acting that way about people, too. Get too frustrated and impatient just waiting for things to happen. And I know," he held his hands up in defense, "that you and I differ on our opinions of how important our powers and abilities are. And I'm trying to see things differently, I really am. I just... I don't know what to do, okay? I hate saying those words, but it's true. I don't know."

He sat silent for a moment, running his fingers over the t-shirt Lorna had brought him. Finally he removed his glasses, wiped the lenses briefly, then looked up at her. "So what do I do?"

Lorna spent a couple of moments looking at Forge, thinking about being 16 and not knowing what to do in the face of a friend's trauma. "Sometimes there isn't anything you can do. Talking is good, if you can do it without being cruel. I know it was just teasing but that," she pointed at her computer, "doesn't help. And I'm guessing that your apology didn't either probably because like guys do, you want to make it better. You want a solution. Probably more than most people because of the way your power works. Listening is more important than talking though," she said after another moment's thought. "You'll never know if she'll open up to you unless you shut up and stop pushing."

"So just sit and listen and wait?" Forge asked, disheartened. "You're probably right. And yeah, I want a solution, because I can't not believe there's one. It's just how I am, I guess. And you know," he added, "it really doesn't even matter if she talks to me. She just needs to open up to someone. You, Kitty, Jono, um... the other guy..." he struggled to try and remember just who Paige's other boyfriend was, the one who wasn't a glittering energy ball that Forge secretly thought was the biggest nuisance to his work in the machine shop.

"Angelo." Lorna shrugged, "I agree. She does need to talk about it. But she won't hear that until she's ready to. She's not going to deal with this, whatever it is, on your timeline. Be patient, don't give up on her and be there when she is ready." Lorna tugged on her ponytail then wound her fingers into it. "Do you talk to Len? Samson?"

Forge chuckled at that. "Every Sunday at 4, like clockwork. He's a good guy. Really helping me through a lot of my crap, especially with my dad and all." He thought a while. "You think Paige would open up talking to him? I know Jay's got a pathological fear of people trying to get inside his head and analyze him, but that's not what Doc Samson's like, you know?"

Lorna laughed. "Oh I know. Len and I had some battles when I started. I used to threaten him with my coffee mug. The reason I asked is actually to have you ask him about what to do about Paige." She smiled wryly, "Not that his answer isn't likely to be 'what do you think you should do' but you know, go with it."

Forge actually laughed out loud at the suggestion. "That's his favorite line, isn't it? Not that I haven't been bouncing it back and forth in my head for weeks now anyway. Debating between 'what do I think I should do?' and 'what do I want to do?'. The first, well," he pointed at the computer. "Not so well. The second, heh, I'd have either Jono or Angelo probably coming to punch me in the nose." He paused, his smile quickly fading. "I didn't just say that out loud, did I?"

"I promise not to tell." Lorna giggled. "Jono doesn't have hands to punch you with and Angelo…okay, so he might. Chill, Forge. It's not a crime to like a girl. Even a girl with two boyfriends." She tugged on her ponytail again. "I don't really know her that well. But I can see as well as you that she's edgy. Try not to make things harder on her, yeah?"

"Last thing on my mind, trust me. After yesterday, trust me, giving her space is sounding like more and more of a good idea," Forge admitted. "And I mean, I wouldn't try... well, I know we're not... it's a totally platonic thing, really. I know my place."

"Talk to Len. He's good at making things clearer." Lorna rolled her right shoulder, listening to it crack and hating the lingering ache. "Be her friend, don't worry about the rest of it. Chances are? You're sixteen, it's going to fade and transfer itself to a new target or something. Maybe Yana or someone."

Collapsing into a combination of shocked gasping, frantic coughing, and bug-eyed fear, Forge shook his head and tried to compose himself, but broke out in laughter every time he caught his breath. "Satan's Cheerleader? I'm neurotic, but I'm not suicidal." He breathed deeply for a few moments, then wiped his eyes and replaced his glasses. "Thanks, Lorna. For, y'know, not being all overprotective and jumping on my case or anything. I know I have kind of a knack for saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

Lorna stopped laughing long enough to shake her head, "No trouble at all. Yesterday, I'd have yelled at you. Today, I'm a kinder, gentler sort of irritated. You do have to make a good apology to Paige though. One that doesn't include anything other than the words I, am, sorry, I, was, a, and jerk."

"So noted," Forge agreed. He turned to leave the kitchen, then faced Lorna with a mock-puzzled look on his face. "In that order, right?"

"Yeah, in that order. You have to option of interesting 'really' and 'big'" in front of 'sorry' and 'jerk' though. See? I encourage creativity." Lorna attempted to look magnanimous but ended up laughing again.

Forge stopped for a moment with a look of contemplation on his face, then smiled. "Indeed. Thanks again," he replied before heading off towards his room, an idea beginning to form.