12927/Wings in the Hangar

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Wings in the Hangar
Date of Scene: 30 September 2022
Location: Blackbird Hangar
Synopsis: Storm and Forge meet over lunch, while Forge is working on the Blackbird.
Cast of Characters: Forge, Ororo Munroe




Forge has posed:
There seems to be a theme with the times where Ororo and Forge meet up: there's an element of water involved! Once again, there's water moving over the floor, though this time, it's all going neatly into a drain, washing little suds away.

Maitenance on the Blackbird is more than just keeping it running smoothly, but also has to do with cleaning it down and filling in all the dents and dings! In this particular case, it's a massive powerwasher in use, a strange high-tech machine that's launching a very potent scouring blast of water over the plane. Forge is actually standing up on it, in some rather summer looking clothes, expecting to get wet, clearly, due to the shorts. It's a funny sight, maybe: the high tech gadgets, the cybernetic leg and power washer... but also just in soaked tank and shorts, and protective goggles.

The water is off for the moment, as Forge climbs around down a wing, bending to inspect to see if the spot he was blasting is damage or something stuck on. Seems a stuck-on, because he lowers the goggles again, gives it a sharp blast of water, and walks further down the wing, looking for any spots he missed.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"You missed lunch!" is called out, the last word a touch louder as the water ceases in the middle of her message. In hand, she has a tray of various bits and bobs; a few half-sandwiches, some cheese and fruit. It's just that the fruit looks as ifshe'd been to the market.

Storm bearing gifts?

The weather goddess has her feet firmly on the ground, dressed casually, though in tune with the season for no other reason but to 'fit in'. Who doesn't like fall colors?

"She's looking very clean. To the point where I'd feel horrible if she was taken out and gotten dirty."

Forge has posed:
Of course, Forge had the bad timing of blasting a litle more during Ororo's shout, but he caught on quickly enough and turned the blaster back off again. "Sorry, one more time?" Forge calls back, for her to repeat. He also waves, and comes down along the wing. He's cautious; no reason to go sliding down or fall, that would not be a pleasant situation.

"That's the idea: be sure the trip is a serious one, not just for joyrides," Forge chuckles, as he moves to the edge of the wing, hooking the washer-blaster into place there so that it's easy to resume work and not worry that IT might fall off and be damaged. That done, he comes back around the plane to the main body, and uses the handholds he's well familiar with to climb to the lower back, the body, then drop down fully. It's easy and comfortable, he knows this plane very well!

"You've brought lunch? You're too kind..." he checks the time. "Wow, I /really/ missed it, by a long shot."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
When there is a prolonged moment of silence, Storm does fill it with her message, redelivered. "You missed lunch. By the time someone had mentioned you were down here?" She has the courtesy to sound apologetic, at the very least. She, too, had volunteered, or rather, had said she was going to bring the meal down.

There's a worktable in the area, or rather, there are undoubtedly many, and she sets the tray down before turning around to face him. There's an ease that she's seen with him, his movements. Watching him deplane, she nods her head in agreement. "The children, for the most part, don't know where the plane is. And the others?" She theatrically narrows those broad blue eyes before continuing, "I'll know."

Of course she would!

"I brought sandwichs, some fruit and cheese. I wasn't sure what you'd want, so I did bring a little of everything."

Forge has posed:
"Well, it's on me to remember to come up for lunch, not the other way around. I wasn't really hungry until you tempted me now with sandwiches, though." Forge strips off the protective eyewear, rubbing a hand back through his mostly-dry hair, and sets them down. At least he's pretty clean, no need to wash up before eating! Still, he picks up one of the dry, new buffing towels, using it to wipe down-- at least one hand. The other has a heavier glove on it, an extra barrier for the cybernetics on that side.

"Thank you for thinking of me, though. Are you stuffed from lunch, or will you join me for this fine selection of fruit?" Forge questions, looking to her as he moves towards the bench.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm watches his movements, a hint of a smile playing on her face. "It happens when one gets caught up in work. And as you're working on the Blackbird," she gestures lightly in the sleek, dark aircraft's direction, "It's only fair that you're at least fed for your labor." She chuckles soon after, shaking her head ever so slightly, "You're not the only person that has to be reminded."

Not to be ungracious, however, Storm continues, "I will certainly join you. I hope this is alright, though. We weren't sure, and my regular spies were unhelpful."

Forge has posed:
"What did your regular spies suggest?" Forge asks, eyebrows lifting in amusement at the refrence to her sending someone to /spy/ on him... perhaps just to note his lunch preferences? "They might have a hard time narrowing my preferences, I suspect I am generally easygoing when it comes to food selection." Very true - he's easygoing in a lot of areas, never getting anything special or important. Forge blends into the backdrop a lot of the time, because he doesn't make noise or cause problems. He just quietly solves them, such that others never notice things are being maintained.

Forge moves across away from the bench to pull an extra chair out of storage, bringing it over as a second seat for himself - assuming she will partake of the main one that was already out. He straddles it, and selects a sandwich.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
"Mmmm.. that's just it. Not helpful."

Seems Forge does fly under the radar, as it were. At least in terms of Storms's usual 'go to', anyway. Storm reaches for a slice of mango and a napkin before she settles in the seat; once Forge is back and not only claimed the chair but also the half-sandwich, that is. "Everyone has a preference. Comfort food, food that they think is for only special occasions.." The smile brightens slightly, and a light, single-shouldered shrug is given. "It means that I can find out for myself."

Holding the mango ever so slightly aloft, Storm adds, "This, this is a treat."

Forge has posed:
"A favorite food? Hmmmm.... What comes to mind..." Forge sits back in the chair a little, with a subtle creak. He's a big man, with his soldier's build. Generally he's more covered up than he is now, from doing the spray-washing, which makes it more visually obvious why the chair might creak. Plus, the cybernetics aren't super lightweight, they mimic his own mass perfectly, so he's not off-balance.

"I'd have to honestly say, a freshly barbequed ear of corn is pretty far up there. Maybe it reminds me of something old, something lost. I'm not sure." Forge smiles briefly, without upset or pain at the memory -- just thoughtfulness, and continues to eat the sandwich. "Do you have such a food?"

Ororo Munroe has posed:
One leg crosses the other at the ankles, and Storm cradles the mango slice. She hasn't yet bitten into it, full in the knowledge that it's ripe and juicy. Good choice, but also a poor choice for 'first impressions'. But.. fresh mango.

Storm watches, her head tilting as he considers. She watches him move, and shift, and she nods slowly. When the words come, and they seem to do so deliberately, she listens attentively. "Mmmm," Storm agrees, "The fire's char, perhaps? Brings a certain sweetness." It is so noted, however, and she finally takes that first nibble.

Leaning forward to keep the juice from dripping, she also cups a hand under her mouth as she takes her bite. She chews it appreciatively and swallows before she formulating an answer. "I find that I miss a lot of food from childhood, but I think that's all part of the experience of eating. Food always tastes better when it is with others. But a particular food?"

Storm shakes her head slowly, consideringly, "Desserts. All of them."

Forge has posed:
Forge laughs softly, at the declaration of desserts. "I was about to say, some tastes certainly changed as I grew older... coffee, for example. But hm, sounds like that didn't happen so much, if your dessert love is as strong as ever," Forge chuckles. And then teases, "Is that why this tray has none? Something disappeared on the way down here?"

He's joking entirely, in no way is he accusing her of stealing desserts. Besides, it doesn't seem like he's concerned either way. Forge is very mellow and even, without signs of anxiety or stress. Storm has a similar sense to her most of the time, so it is perhaps familiar in that way.

Ororo Munroe has posed:
It is nice, no fluctuations in the Force, as it were. It makes her own holds, her own moods, her own 'zen' so much easier in that she doesn't have to worry about outbursts (as teenagers are prone to doing!). A laugh erupts, ending with an amused smile, and she gestures with both her hands, the one under and cupping for juice spillage along with the mango slice. "I could lie and try to say that I'm trying to set a good example, but..." and the word drifts off before she begins again. "Thankfully, no one counts the chocolate."

The gesture thus done, Storm dips her head and takes another bite as she brings the food back and available. Chewing quickly and swallowing again, an arm reaches back for a napkin so she can set the fruit down. "I never liked the taste of coffee. The smell is amazing, but the taste?" She shakes her head, and the great white ponytail shakes ever so slightly. "Tea. I make my own blends with.." She smiles, something of a self-deprecating smirk, "With fruit and chocolate."

Forge has posed:
"I like coffee, but... with moderation. Sometimes it's necessary, though, to power through something that... can't wait." Forge gestures a bit loosely towards the Blackbird, though he means certain projects in general. Things that are very important, that must save lives, and take priority.

"Teas? Hm. I have great respect for teas," Forge says, with a firm, solemn tone to his voice. This may be more of a side to Forge that doesn't usually show, as most assume he is a techie and that's all. "Some old recipes have a deeper ... magic to them. Some of it, I think, just from the power that comes from being passed down, and shared. A connection to the past, through memory." Forge relents from that deeper commentary, and gives a brief, easier smile. "This mango hits the spot, who needs dessert."

Ororo Munroe has posed:
Storm's tones continue that soft, amused wry-timbre, "We appreciate the sacrifices made for the 'Bird." Coffee, no doubt, was a part of it, and undoubtedly many other projects for their safety.

As Forge turns a little more introspective, the mango is forgotten, if only for the moment, and she listens to his words. She not only hears them, but can feel the emotion, the depth that is hidden within. Nodding slowly, it's more a spiritual, instinctual agreement with the man more so than anything else. "I'll look for you when I bring in my newly dried leaves, and we can speak more about that." Something that's touched her, and she wants to explore more. Later, however.

Rising from her spot, Storm looks a touch apologetic. "I should go. I still have papers to grade. Exams wait for no one. Not even teachers." With her goodbyes, then, Storm turns to depart, and makes her way back up to the house proper.