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

[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.