Sure, he'd heard the yelling. But what married couple didn't yell at each other - even during the best of times? Next went the furniture, and then, almost like clockwork, the light in his workshop dimmed. "Alright." Forge huffed when he got up from his work bench, "I'm getting too old for this." He told no one, then appeared as a specter in the doorway behind Warren. "Everything alright?" He asked the pair as he crossed the threshold into the lounge.
"No, Jon." Warren started, eyes still locked onto Eva's huddled from. "It is not alright." He sighed, already regretful about what he'd said to Zap. Even though she told him she wanted to be alone, Angel had to fight not to approach her. Not to at least try and comfort her. Perhaps, he was the fool.
"Yeah, it was kind of a rhetorical question." Forge answered, because of course everything wasn't okay. But besides his table and a couple of ugly coffee mugs, nobody seemed to be physically damaged. Emotionally, spiritually, well that was another story. Forge found Warren's eyes in the darkness, and thankfully didn't have to say anything.
"I'm going to check in on Ren." Angel coincided quickly to the older man and father of his bride. He looked one last time to Eva, hoping she'd acknowledge his exit, but wasn't surprised when she didn't.
"Sounds like a good call, chief." He moved passed Warren and stepped closer to his daughter. His hand rested on her shoulder and his ass landed on the arm of the over-sized chair she'd collapsed into. He waited for Angel's wings to disappear completely, and that the heir turned toward Ren's room and not Ronan's, before he finally focused all his attention on Eva. He didn't say anything for a while, he simply rubbed her shoulders and neck and waited to see if she'd start. "I bought five hundred pounds of rock-salt today. You know, winter is coming." Forge opened with small talk, it was his go-to.