12761/Hardly Raining

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Hardly Raining
Date of Scene: 12 September 2022
Location: Laundry Room
Synopsis: Forge and Ororo chat over a slightly flooded laundry room.
Cast of Characters: Forge, Ororo Munroe




Forge has posed:
The laundry room of Xavier's school is usually comfortable. If it's cold outside, it has a warmth, and scent of clean clothing. If it's warm out, the room is pleasantly air-conditioned, fans wisking the heat away from those relaxing inside while they wait or use the tables to fold their laundry.

Today, something is off with the temperature: there's a sort of muggy heat to the room. Still, the TV is on in the back, some laughter echoing out of the laundry room, and a strange humming sound that isn't quite a fan.

Entry the room will reveal a variety of things. The floor has about three inches of water! The whole room is flooded out. Two machines, approximately the size of 2'x2' boxes, are situated in the water on the floor, and are smoothly pumping up the liquid. There's just a LOT of it. Seated up out of the water on top of one of the tables is Forge, feet clearing the water entirely, though he has water-resistant boots on. He's poking at a handheld device in a bored way with left hand, while attention is half towards the television. Looks like some kind of movie from the 70s.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
At one point in time during the week, even staffers have to do their laundry. Everyone. And, as the end of the weekend, the beginning of a new week arrives, it's the perfect time to get in at least one load. Ororo Monroe, Storm, Wind Rider, Goddess... has to do her own laundry. She is dressed in a lightly woven tunic and breeches, brilliant in hues. In hand, she carries a woven carrying basket, a myriad of colors and fabrics lie in organized piles ready to be put in.

It's the crossing, or rather, the almost crossing of the threshold, that Storm pauses, stopping short with her shoulders pulling back just a little. Lips press together as she surveys the water on the floor, then lifts those impossible blue eyes to the man that is relaxed, seated on one of the folding tables. "What happened, and.." she gestures in a nod towards the pumps, and it doesn't look as if the water is actually leaving those pumps. "... Where is the water going?"

A step is taken backwards, and Storm sets her basket aside; no sense in holding it.

Forge has posed:
Forge turns towards the door, a little confused at first, and lifts his right hand to pull a small ear piece that's hanging off of his goggles out of his ear. He's not really 'wearing' the goggles - they're on his forehead, as usual. They generally are that way, as if the state of them being lowered would signal some very dangerous situation indeed.

At first Forge doesn't answer, but he did catch her questions, and a small smile appears. There isn't nerves in it; Forge is calm. No real concern over the situation. "Careful, the school might capsize soon," Forge jokes pleasantly, before actually answering. "Some students making mischief. I've reset the machines, and we'll have bailed out the ship soon enough," he assures her. On closer look, there are some transparent tubes going from the two pumps to behind where one of the washers was moved out.

"On the upside, all of the machines will be open in a few minutes, if you have a favorite."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
No real concern? There are 3 inches of water on the ground, and sure.. it's being handled, but it does mean more time taken away, or more to the point, more time potentially spent indoors. Not ideal. "I think the seas are rough already, but so far, I think the course is true. This, however," and she puts her hand out to gesture at the water again, "I think the children should be manning the bilge pumps." See? She's learned something from Kurt! How else would a Sub-Saharan goddess know anything vaguely resembling nautical terms?

None of the machines are ready quite yet, then, and Storm looks as if she considers turning around and going out again before that is obviously decided against. Instead, she takes up her basket once more, and does enter the room, all without getting her feet wet. The ground water parts as she walks through, heading to her own particular favorite machine. Setting the woven basket atop the washer, she turns to watch the machines briefly, the exiting of the water beyond. "A few minutes? Then, I think I'll stay. Perhaps the culprits will return."

Forge has posed:
"Oh, we have footage of the culprits," Forge answers, in a conspiratorial tone, and a flex of open hand towards the left upper side of the room above the television. "But their mischief did make the room unsafe, it exposed an electrical hazard. While I want to teach a lesson, electrocution during that felt a little extreme."

Forge watches Storm approach, spreading the water. One of the pumps gurgles in apparent confusion at the shift in pressure, and Forge leans out a foot to push it more out of Ororo's water path. With more water, it stops gurgling. "I've rerouted those circuits now. Not that a zap would harm you, would it?" Forge wonders. The movie in the background plays some more theme song -- Jaws, apparently.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"I don't know," Storm begins slowly, and even in the midst of it, there's a ghost of a smile that creeps up. She, too, exudes a calm, an almost zen envelopes the woman, and she offers up a shrug that is encased in her words. "I think some of them would be encouraged by it. I do know that some would enjoy the experience of drawing it in and perhaps using it to advantage. But, as this is outside the classroom, we'll keep it here, between us."

The little pump makes that confused sound, and Storm looks at it, studying it for a long moment, her head canting slightly to the side before her attention returns to Forge. "Thank you. And, no.. it wouldn't. It would be painful, certainly, but harm?" She shakes her head, "I would just transfer it down safely." There's something of a pause as she turns around to lean on her claimed washer, the floor dry beneath her feet, "Forge, yes?" She's just making sure, and the inquiry is more for validation than question. "I've heard of your works."

Forge has posed:
"Well, no need for pain, either. Still, for the rest of us, the rubber boots." Forge gestures to his current anti-electricity and water footwear - which clearly would protect him from any shocks. Safety first.

"Heard, good. I hear many of you ride around in them," teases Forge. It's good-natured, entirely: he doesn't mind. He's having good humor regardless, without expectation of credit or praise.

"Should you need more from any of the vehicles, I hope you'll submit suggestions. Can't update it if I don't know what's needed." A pause. "Well, I can, but I may choose special massage seats." Forge nods to Ororo. "I go entirely by Forge, these days," he says. "Do you prefer Ororo outside of missions?" he asks, polite. He's looked away now, as if to give her privacy about her laundry instead of looking at private items.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
With the drying floor around her washer, Ororo shifts her bundle to the side, ready to pour it into the basket. She's still listening, still active in the conversation; it's light-hearted and easy. "Yes, yes we do. I also slap lots of hands." There's a sly smile that rises, "Perhaps something that announces, 'Don't do that' might help?"

It's tongue in cheek, obviously.

"That is the only thing I can think of," She twists around to start to put her clothing into the washer, moving it around within before closing the top again.

"Forge," Storm repeats before continuing, "I go by everything." Her smile creases her lips once more, "Storm, Ororo, 'Ro.. hey you, 'Miss'.. and there are times when I will even turn my head at 'Hey mutant'. I'm rarely kind in that moment, however." The lilt of her words does lend to the humor. "Ororo is fine. 'Ro is fine, as well."

Forge has posed:
Forge drops his hands and moves to slide off the table. It's not far, he's pretty tall, his feet were not far from the water anyway. But there's a minimal amount of water left: the pumps did their job. There's no thud or sound of heavy limb; Forge's cybernetics are all covered and it blends in as if they didn't exist - aside from wearing one glove, anyway. He starts to calmly unplug the first pump, disconnecting and rolling the tube up neatly into a coil as he goes. It's just a businesslike behavior - he came to secure the laundry, and he's doing that job efficiently.

"'Hey Mutant' seems like a good reason to slap hand, or otherwise," Forge answers thoughtfully, taking her joke with a serious answer. His smile is vague, a little distant, maybe. But still pleasant. "I like Ororo. I'll stick with that, then," Forge decides, in a warm, but matter-of-fact way.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
The soap had been added, all tucked within the clothes, so there is no measuring, and with a tentative touch of the console (perhaps hoping not to electrocute herself!), Ororo starts the machine. She catches the easy and fluidity of Forge's dismount from the table; she'd heard a few other things, but certainly nothing to bring up in polite conversation, particularly on the first actual meeting when there were no monsters to fight, no humans to .. reeducate or save. Nothing truly suggests itself, but she can't help that feeling of power, the flow of energy that simply changes. It's that she can feel, and should she be so inclined, see.

'Ro nods her head slowly, the placement of her smile still there. There's no real highs or lows with her; she lives in her contentment. "I had meant for the students when they are touching //everything//." The last word is underscored, and arrives with a laugh, "But I'll accept the other as a given."

His pronouncement gains a slightly brighter smile, "I'd like that, Forge."

Forge has posed:
"The students do get into /everything/," Forge chuckles, with a shake of head. "But that's the purpose of a school. Better they be curious. If it does fall to you to discipline this bunch, I wouldn't be too hard on them. They didn't harm much of anything, and prompted improved safety measures here in this and the adjacent rooms." Forge isn't a teacher, and simply will provide the information or evidence for any reprimand in order.

Forge has packed up the pump now, and returned it into one of the uninteresting overhead storage compartments in the laundry. All tubes are now coiled and stacked. The other pump gets wheeled around just a bit, before it is turned... and swapped into an exhaust fan mode, quiet little hum as it works to air-polish the floor.

Forge then comes around Ororo, with a polite small nod, to move to the machine adjacent to the one she's using - the one that's pulled out. He squats to close and anchor the panel, and then lifts the machine to push it back into place, hiding the access panels again.

"I'd considered installing different machines here of my own design, but ... it's almost inconsiderate to pamper students when this is a good life lesson. Real laundry." Forge chuckles a little. "Though if you want access as faculty to where I've hidden the good ones, I'll let you in on them," Forge asides, with a smile that crinkles into the sides of dark eyes.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"Curious in a controlled environment," Ororo prompts. "But, you know the phrase, so I'd rather my students not suffer the same fate." Still, Ororo isn't one to stifle their learning, either. She is a proponent, after all, of the Danger Room.

Watching Forge's movements around the room, Ororo takes a deep breath, and looking up, she gets something of a look on her face. One of those that has her inching towards the door. Not to abruptly leave, but it is more preparation. Her manner has her appearing as if she's inviting Forge to go with her, to walk with her. Just to get some air, that is.

"I would love to learn where the good ones are," Ororo offers a warm smile, a secret perhaps shared. "I promise I won't breathe it to a soul."

Forge has posed:
"They're mobile; right now they're in the storage behind the security room," Forge says, without much 'security' to the offhanded way he describes it. Still -- what he said means they are in the X-Men zone, and probably buried under a lot of other equipment. That storage area has a lot of heavy tech in rolling bins. Deciphering which was the laundry would be a scary prospect: equally likely to put clothes into a disintegrator.

Which may explain why he's not overly protective about that statement!

"I hadn't decided where they should reside yet, they're just stored. ...I hope you didn't think they were set up and operational, and I sat here and let you put your laundry in these," Forge says, with brief, amused alarm. "I'd considered repurposing an area off the hangar, as it seems natural to put mission gear directly in for cleaning. What do you think, as someone that uses that?" The tech wants user input.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
If she was the least bit bothered about the existence of a fancy washer and still used the normal ones, she's not showing it. Ororo rarely shows her irritations regardless, but she's in good humor. No fuss, no gentle foot stamp of feigned frustration, nothing. It's a practiced ease that has taken years to perfect, and she is still far from perfect. The world outside still reflects her moods; typhoons are just a great deal less frequent.

A laugh sounds, a true, light sound, "I see. 'Mobile'. Though, that does seem the ideal place. There are times when I consider hiring someone to detail the Blackbird. Slime, mud.. and other more unspeakable things have had to be pried out of that airplane." Ororo is enjoying the thought of all the X-Men's dirt being put into a washer built by Forge? Absolutely.

"On second thought, I may not want to put my delicates in with anything that comes as a result of a mission."

Forge has posed:
Forge pauses, and takes that new information with a sort of humble adjustment. "I... had not considered the fate of your delicates," he says, entirely honestly. He really had not thought about the different grades of laundry that she would be doing - and is adjusting immediately.

"No, if you have sensitive garments, I retract the use of the machines I've calibrated to pull glass out of battle gear," Forge says, with a softened deadpan, and mild embarrassment. He's moving along with her out of the laundry, though he does pause to aim his handheld device to shut off the television and most of the lights as they go. Energy conservation.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Ororo's gaze lingers on Forge, that smile remaining easily upon her face. "I thought not," though her response was more her not wanting to set her delicates to the less than tender mercies of a modified washer than his neglecting to consider said delicates. She reaches out to set a hand on his arm; it's a reach for a gentle touch, a moment of connection should he allow such. "It is appreciated. And I'll wait for another version that would be appropriate for more domestic use."

Storm truly begins her path out; she'll be back in a half hour or so to set her things back into the basket to be hung up in her attic. "When you have time, perhaps consider the request? If you have time, that is. I'm certain that you probably have other things go do."

Forge has posed:
"We'll see. Inspiration sometimes strikes regardless of other priorities," Forge says, though he's kidding. He does control his inspiration, to some manner. Ororo draws the weather to her call... Forge draws ideas.

Forge's arm is ordinary - no cybernetics there - though it's bulky with his soldier's build. Understated in his current attire, even so. "I'll see what I can do. Have a pleasant evening, Ororo," Forge says, with a somewhat formal incline of head and smile. He doesn't have the royal grace she does, but a different sort of ceremony that comes from how he was raised.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"I look forward to seeing what strikes from inspirations," Ororo warmly returns. "Even if it's not a washer for delicates." Now, she'll be looking at things a little more closely; who knows what has the touch of the architect, the inventor?

The touch is there and gone, and as she passes through the threshold once more, the smile that she gives Forge is one of appreciation. "Thank you, Forge. You too. If you ever need a gentle rain, or perhaps a moment of sun in the middle of a grey day, please.. let me know." She does finally pass through, and with the lights blinking out behind her, behind them, she has to set up her lines!