Mystique watched him, golden eyes calm. She held her mug between her fingers, warm ceramic and the smell of coffee, waited for Forge to finish. It was true ... there were many people who shouldn't have had troubles with tattoos. She was one of them, healers or regeneratives, shifters, but from what she had seen, what should happen had absolutely no bearing on what would happen.
A subject on which the less she spoke, the better.
"I do," Mystique answered with a nod, opening the folder to reveal several pages of neatly typed notes, photographs. On top, a dark tattoo stood in stark contrast to what seemed to be a man's pale, unmarred arm. "The man was -" she laughed. "Is a regenerative sort. It gave me the chance to do quite a bit more than I normally would have ... with much the same results that you've had."
A small gesture with two fingers indicated that Forge could at least look at the pages in front of him.