forgedbythemaker

In a totally sane way.

Are you serious? Forge is getting proper character development?

I almost choked when I heard it. I use captions, so I could see I hadn't imagined it, and I was in absolute shock. I repeated "DANIEL?" in disbelief about 10 times, my hand on my mouth and my eyes wide. I looked at my husband to confirm I wasn't going insane. Then I stared into space for the rest of the episode.

X-Men '97 using Forge's real name was the last thing I expected. And the way they did it, too, so casually, in conversation. I'D BEEN WAITING FOR THIS FOR 30 YEARS.

Reaching up to rub at his nose right where someone had broken it, the slight twinge of psychosomatic pain receding, he turns his gaze away from the blond and back to Sandra, her joke helping to ease his tension.

"I'm surprised this place is still standing." He responds wryly, shooting a wry grin at her. Building a personal energy shield would probably be a bit overkill for a bartender, but if she was exposed to problem customers it would only be fair, although maybe a whole-room stun-device might be better...

Shaking his head a little he nodded gratefully at the new beer, after the scare he'd just given himself he definitely needed it. "Sure is his lucky night." He adds, with an amused nod over his shoulder, rubbing his neck to ease the tension and taking a swill of his final beer.

❝ I won't give you any folksy crap about 'we take care of our own', but we do kinda take care of our own. No one messes with us, not even - Hey, Misty! Can you take care of them, and close out this tab when he's all done? I'm gonna step away some. ❞

What the bartender was about to say is cut off as a woman in a similar t-shirt comes strolling out from the back. Sandra's quick to offer the baton to the redhead and, thankfully, the incoming redhead is quick to 'take the baton' and set up at the bar for the rowdy folk now singing, almost harmonically, in unison: 'LET ME SEE THAT THONG!'

With that headache passed along to someone else, Sandra was free to pull the half-crushed pack of menthols from her apron. ❝ God, finally... what was I saying? ❞

A single hand against the counter top, the brunette vaulted it in a single, fluid motion and landed on the other side, already in stride toward the door.

❝ Doesn't matter, I guess. M'gonna step out back and take a break. If you're not here when I get back, I guess I'll catch you next time, Maker. ❞

His heart's hammering in his chest as he watches Sandra walk away, all the certainties of the last few months evaporating to be replaced with an all-consuming worry.

Part of him wants nothing more than to walk out the front door and not look back, pack up and get as far away from this town, from her as possible. It's what he should do, and he even gets up to to do it, but then hesitates. A niggling feeling that comes from someplace that he can't fully repress wants him to follow her, accompanied by the rationalisation that Mystique had been known to blow up buildings full of people to get her way. Would she do that here? He doubted it, but it wasn't a certainty and that was enough to make walking out the front door not really an option.

So after a minute and maybe more like two he finally turns and moves with a stiff reluctance toward the back door, leaving the raucous noise of the bar behind and stepping out into the cool night air, his nose crinkling at the smell of tobacco smoke.

"That's a dirty habit, but not as dirty as pretending to be my bartender for god knows how long." He observes, careful to close the door behind him so that no poor unfortunate wandered out and heard more than might be safe for them. Back still toward her and arched with tenseness, he lets out a long slow exhale, deliberately not looking at her but down at his feet.

"Yeah seems so. Thanks Sandra, nothing you can't handle?" He'd become enough of a regular that he'd started letting his guard down slightly around her lately, offering to upgrade the bar's dishwasher and starting to talk a little rather than keep to himself, and the thought of the bar getting smashed up in a fight was enough to have him concerned for her.

But she was surely right, there were too many men eyeing the new arrival andthat tattoo just wink? Surely it was his mind playing tricks on him, unless...he stiffened abruptly, face taut with suspicion. There was someone he knew who'd had her fun with tattoos before, but surely not, surely she wouldn't be here...no it must have been his imagination...but he had to be sure, or at least try to be.

"Not very subtle are we?" He murmured under his breath, quiet enough that nobody else would hear, but confident that Raven's sharp hearing would pick it up. If it was her and he was really hoping that the tattoo winking had simply been his imagination. Degrees of paranoia was her lingering gift and something he would never entirely be free of.

The glass is filled to the rim, a healthy barrier of foam settling atop the dark amber and providing the perfect little visual punctuation as she laughed and set it down before him.

Behind her, the blonde found her 'war cry' and let it ring out through the bar. The opening melody of violins called to the air, Sisqo's Thong Song immediately bringing a chuckle to Sandra's lips, and a swell of competition in the locals.

The brunette leaned down over the bar, reaching over to the garnish tray and pulling free a cherry as Miss 'Dumps like a Truck' kept the energy up, up and up.

Bright blue eyes flash and shine as they take in the auras of every single man in the bar checking their blonde host out. Including the aura of a particularly suspicious man who was whispering to 'himself'.

Reaching up to rub at his nose right where someone had broken it, the slight twinge of psychosomatic pain receding, he turns his gaze away from the blond and back to Sandra, her joke helping to ease his tension.

"I'm surprised this place is still standing." He responds wryly, shooting a wry grin at her. Building a personal energy shield would probably be a bit overkill for a bartender, but if she was exposed to problem customers it would only be fair, although maybe a whole-room stun-device might be better...

Shaking his head a little he nodded gratefully at the new beer, after the scare he'd just given himself he definitely needed it. "Sure is his lucky night." He adds, with an amused nod over his shoulder, rubbing his neck to ease the tension and taking a swill of his final beer.

The beer in this place isn't particularly good, but Forge didn't particularly mind. He liked the old style ambience of the place and the country music that was played out of an old jukebox most nights, but live by a travelling singer ever Monday. Kearney, Nebraska wasn't a place that anyone would pick out on a map, and so he's found it a good place to lie low, set up a workshop in a suburb of the quiet town and get away from the chaotic world of the X-Men and X-Force for awhile.

Doing so had certainly helped his blood pressure, hours spent assembling devices he'd envisaged for years but never had the time to work on, almost therapeutic. With the clock ticking down toward eleven, he yawned, getting ready to call it a night and head home, a pleasant walk of several blocks in the cool night air.

Soft clinking of a glass being pulled from a chiller, the bartender looks like she's getting ready to ask the man at her bar if he wants another. Then the door to the bar swings open again.

The entrant is a woman. Full-bodied blonde hair, half down in elegant curls. She scans the insides for a moment, before her eyes light up, and she makes her way toward the bar proper... and then past it, with a giggle, toward the jukebox.

Hands on the sides of the well-worn machine, she bent over to scroll through the selections. Lifting the ends of her dark blue jacket to reveal the very edges of a blue-scaled mermaid tattoo. Winking at whomever might've caught her eye.

The bartender cleared her throat, adjusting her glasses with her free hand and holding up the empty glass she'd procured with the other.

"Yeah seems so. Thanks Sandra, nothing you can't handle?" He'd become enough of a regular that he'd started letting his guard down slightly around her lately, offering to upgrade the bar's dishwasher and starting to talk a little rather than keep to himself, and the thought of the bar getting smashed up in a fight was enough to have him concerned for her.

But she was surely right, there were too many men eyeing the new arrival andthat tattoo just wink? Surely it was his mind playing tricks on him, unless...he stiffened abruptly, face taut with suspicion. There was someone he knew who'd had her fun with tattoos before, but surely not, surely she wouldn't be here...no it must have been his imagination...but he had to be sure, or at least try to be.

"Not very subtle are we?" He murmured under his breath, quiet enough that nobody else would hear, but confident that Raven's sharp hearing would pick it up. If it was her and he was really hoping that the tattoo winking had simply been his imagination. Degrees of paranoia was her lingering gift and something he would never entirely be free of.

A FLIRTATIOUS smirk pulls to her lips and she accepts the hand he offers her .

He can’t help but blush at that very sexy little smirk, but he covers it by helping her to her feet and leading the way out of the bar. Once outside and away from the gazes of any co-workers some of his anxiety fades and he half-wonders if he should let go of her hand, but screw it, it felt nice.

He can’t help but blush at that very sexy little smirk, but he covers it by helping her to her feet and leading the way out of the bar. Once outside and away from the gazes of any co-workers some of his anxiety fades and he half-wonders if he should let go of her hand, but screw it, it felt nice.

Forge invented a suit that co-opts Mystique’s shapeshifting. I’m not surprised.

“Right...” He blinks and tries not to look chagrined because that makes absolutely perfect sense. He’s really not cut out for cloak and dagger work. But her mischievous grin and suggestion are enough to embolden him.

“Right...” He blinks and tries not to look chagrined because that makes absolutely perfect sense. He’s really not cut out for cloak and dagger work. But her mischievous grin and suggestion are enough to embolden him.

She’s pleased and so he is too, his heart turning his nerves to butterflies at the touch of her hand on his, her intent gaze all the encouragement he needs to tout his work. “Well I’ve made a camera baffler, it’ll loop security cameras within a two hundred foot radius and also a mutant scan blocker, which will make you appear human to that scanner Trask built. They’re in my workshop at home if you want to take a look.”

HER EYES widen . it's a gadget that could be a game changer . usually she has to do that manually , and it takes ages . well - - - ' ages ' is maybe a bit of an exaggeration . she's gotten far better at it , over the years , but it's still moments where she risks getting caught . this eliminates that opening .

“Yeah, I tested it a couple of weeks ago.” In retrospect walking up to a government building with a mutant detector built into the security gate had not been a brilliant idea, but he’d been too absorbed in scientific curiosity to remember to be nervous.