Over the Duck Pond, And Then In It, Late Saturday Night

Right, so a minute ago Katchoo had been in Caritas for the Rock Con performances. And then Francine had gone and accidentally managed to ask Griffin Silver to sign her bra. (That was Katchoo's fault, sort of.)

And then Griffin Silver had recognized Katchoo. She'd known him back in L.A., in her Darcy Parker days; he'd been to a few of Darcy's parties.

He'd been about to blurt out her Parker Girl nickname -- that couldn't happen. Since Katchoo had attempted to stop him from doing that the first way she could think of, well . . . Katchoo was no longer in Caritas.

*SPLASH*

And Katchoo was now mud and pond water from head to foot, too busy coughing up pond muck to swear particularly coherently.

"The frikkin' hell . . ." Muttering to herself, Katchoo sloshed back toward Caritas to find Francine. And hope like hell she didn't ask any questions.

[OOC: Establishy! Hee hee.]