The Engineer simply listened quietly as Forge talked. Of being abused and controlled and having his talents exploited.
Yeah, the Shaman shit is hippy crap but FUCK... guy just wanted to build tech and got treated like that....
The new, strange feeling of empathy managed to race through every cell of his brain. Shit, he's so like me its not fuckin' funny...
"Well guns do have one use," he began with the usual bitter gravel in his voice. "Shooting assholes like your uncle." His voice grew angrier as he moved his arms around. "Your skill is yours, dude, not your family's. You think this is gonna make me think any different of you?" He rolled his eyes, "no fuckin' way, man."
And then he realized, as he had ranted about how Forge was treated, he had absent-mindedly turned around and given Forge a complete full-frontal view of the excavated, mutilated, patchwork vivsection horror that served as his torso. Even with the clumps of body hair matted with soap and water, with the steam swirling around, the torn up flesh said more than anything else could. Enough to distract anyone from looking at my cock.
He could've turned back, but it was already too late. He didn't mind before... or probably just didn't notice.