A Hotel Room at the Renaissance Curacao Resort and Casino, Sunday

[thismaskiwear]

As far as Christmas presents went, this one was -- something utterly unprintable, if you asked Katchoo to put it into words. She was not at all inclined to disagree with Francine's evaluation that Arthur was, indeed, a crazy person for doing this for them.

She'd had a constant refrain of this is crazy this is crazy this is crazy running through her head the entire trip here (portal travel, whatever, it was still enough time to cram in a lot of that refrain) that had only gotten louder when they'd arrived at the hotel, throw in a nice counterpoint while they waited to check in, and add drums on the way to the room. Fumbling with the keycard was probably even in rhythm with that mental music loop.

But here they were, in a resort hotel in Curacao, with the door to the room swinging open, and really Katchoo thought she'd be pretty nonchalant about it after a lot of the amenities she'd seen, but --

"Holy frikkin' crap."

[OOC: For that girl who's here with her. Duh.]

Comments

[thatsamilkshake]

There was nothing maybe about the way Francine tilted her head back into that and let the touch shiver across her shoulders. Nor, thank you, was there any flailing.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

If there wasn't any flailing, Katchoo felt justified in moving one hand to rest on Francine's hip and dropping a kiss on the back of her neck where her fingers had just been. Call it an apology for pulling her hand away, or just something that seemed like it needed to be done.

[thatsamilkshake]

Absolutely needed to be done. Just like Francine needed to roll a little to the side so she could turn her face up to meet that kiss, her hair falling back down across Katchoo's arm as she rapped sharply on the door and said "Room service!"

Oh wait, that last bit wasn't her.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

So there was this gigantic bed and the feel of Francine's hair against her skin, and the scent of baby powder and holy god this might actually be happening because Francine sure seemed responsive tonight, and --

"Sonofa#$(*!@)_bitch!"

That part was definitely Katchoo, who hadn't ordered room service and wished she knew how to kill things with her brain. (Quite possibly she was the only one in any world ever who wished she could do that.)

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine didn't say that, but she did say, "What?" and decide that it came free with the vacation and she didn't need to pay any princes for its use. "We didn't order any room service!"

The lightly accented male voice in the hall said, "Complimentary champagne, madame. It was ordered as part of your suite package?"

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Yeah, well, at the moment the brain-killing ability Katchoo wished for would've been targeted at certain princes. One certain prince who was holding the now-empty but still-metaphorical bucket of cold water -- yes, this was a figure of speech and a bit of an unfair one, but metaphorical cold water was still cold water and Katchoo could still visualize it really frikkin' well.

The I am going to throttle you for knocking look on her face might've been adequate explanation for why she looked at Francine and gritted through her teeth, "I think you better get it."

[thatsamilkshake]

Well. Somebody seemed likely to get it, if the look on Katchoo's face was any indication. Even a less-than-pleased Francine kind of hoped as she went to the door that the target wouldn't be the innocent hotel employee on the other side of it.