The X-Project

After sometime of not speaking to each other, Jay emails Forge about Nick Gleason after he recieves an email from Julian. Forge finds Jay in the garage and they bond over mutual concern and understanding of Catseye.

Four doors of the Chevy Silverado sat open, hood popped up and the blast of an old fifties country song mournfully pulling teeth of anyone who wasn't a country lover. Jay hung out on the driver's side, stomach on the seat as he reached for empty paper coffee mugs littered on the floor and placed them into a plastic bag he was holding. It had been months since he cleaned out the truck and didn't want Marius to see how he'd let go of the up keep of the truck. Two holes still sat in the middle bed, a direct result of his interactions with Lex and he'd still not asked Forge to fix them.. Instead, he was going to take it in, have someone else fix it but that was later when he could afford the quote that they gave him.

Instead of singing along with the song, Jay mouthed the words, keeping a tight rein on his vocals and restraining them from hissing through the lyrics. Occasionally it would slip out at the end, when he couldn't resist a catchy word, drawn out into a tone that surfaced a talent dead to him.

Forge heard the radio before he even entered the garage from the downward-sloping ramp, snickering under his breath at Jay's jeans-clad legs sticking out one open door of the truck. He paused with a half-uttered jest on his lips when he heard Jay's voice rasp on a note that before would have been an easy symphony for his friend. Another thing lost - not lost, changed - from the predations of Blaquesmith.

Instead of making a joke about Jay's singing, Forge bounded down the ramp, vaulting himself up over one of the front quarter panels, slamming the hood down and plastering himself like a bug to the windshield. "This is the noise police!" he shouted through the glass. "Turn off the Conway Twitty and step out of the vehicle!"

The startle back threw Jay's wings out over him, the joint catching on the rooftop and splaying a slice through the fabric before he could even think to pull out. "Damnit Forge!" He hissed. The wings were big enough to catch him on the bent where the door joins the body and he pulled one wing out before he did the other, all the while cursing. "What's wrong with you? Crawlin' up on someone like that, huh? Damn well nearly gave me a heart attack." Conway was turned down, low enough not to be intrusive.

"You have a healing factor," Forge deadpanned, "and I have a defibrillator. Heart attacks are just another way to say 'be prepared, rookie'. Hell, my heart's stopped twice and look at me. I'm fine. Speaking of matters of the heart - that's what they call a segue - this... hold on."

Forge pulled out his PDA and scrolled through his emails. "...Nick. Gleason, Nicholas. Seventeen years old and... turns... into a giant... wolf. Thing. Okay, that's... dogs and cats, just not natural. We have to do something."

"Yeah Ah know," Jay replied, his tone short as he threw up his hands. One landed on the door and he stepped back, closing it. "Ah thought Lakin' but Ah'd like his head in a toilet better." His hand glided along the paintjob until he reached the back of the truck and turned around, walking backwards to the open tail gate. "He ain't exactly a mean guy, but if he's playing up Angel too--"

"--then we find ourselves in an interesting situation," Forge finished. "Because Angel... she's seventeen. She knows guys, knows what she's getting into if this Nick dude's some kind of Manuel Junior. But Cats... dude, she barely figured out pants, and if he's taking advantage of that--"

"--then he's gonna get his balls ripped off and shoved down his throat." Jay stopped himself, surprised by how naturally aggressive that came out and it might have shown on his face if he wasn't jerking the tailgate open. "Ah dunno, Ah don't think it's gonna be easy for him to get 'er in bed. She talks a lot, yanno. Imagine that and... No, never mind, don't imagine that."

"Dude, it's Catseye," Forge said with an odd expression. "You have no idea how easy not imagining that is. But she's not going to know enough to ask him what his intentions are, so someone's got to."

"Someone meanin' you and me." It wasn't really a question. "She ain't gonna like it if she finds out," he started, pulling himself up into the truck bed with the help of his wings. Not that they cared. "Clarice should port him somewhere or we tie him to the ceiling or no, hell, we should make him listen to yer music collection. That'll bring anyone to their knees."

Forge shook his head. "This isn't a shakedown, Jay. I've learned that if people want to be together, stepping in the way just causes a headache. I just want to make sure that this Nick guy is on the up and up, and that he knows that Catseye's... well, you know."

"Frail? Innocent? A virgin? Maybe imprintable?" he snapped his finger, trying to find the right context. "What's that word fer when yer makin' a mark on someone? Yanno? Like an opinion?"

"Impressionable," Forge answered. "And if Nick's looking to take advantage of that... then we steer him clear. If not, hey, we tell him what's what and let nature take its course. But then again..."

He hopped down from the truck and picked up a wrench, twirling it around on his palm. "No one ever said we couldn't be creative about it."