Francine and Katchoo's Dorm Room, Rupture University

[thismaskiwear]

"I can't feel my feet anymore. How much longer?"

"We just started! I haven't even finished the charcoal sketch. You're whining again."

"'Cause I've been sitting here so long half my body's asleep. My butt's asleep. I might as well be sitting on a rump roast!"

"If you can't feel your rump roast, it doesn't hurt, so what're ya complaining about?"

"It's cold, that's what. I'm also freezing my half-naked butt off!"

"Oh please; a quarter naked at best. Now if I could get you to take off that robe..."

"Oh God, is that the door?"

[Some dialogue folded, spindled and mutilated from Strangers in Paradise Vol. 3, Issue 19 and (later) Vol. 1, Issue 1. Continues within! Warning for Fight of the Century Round #451, long-forgotten Parents Weekend guests, and Katchoo's idea of art critique. I've also made a little space for the cheese slices peanut gallery.]

Comments

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

That was a phrase that should normally come out more complimentary, you'd think.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeah." Katchoo dragged the word out as she gave Francine a really odd look. "What's wrong with that?"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"Nothing's wrong with the picture; she's beautiful." Francine lifted up a finger as if to trace the stylized curve of the face on the canvas, but she didn't touch it.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"She?" Katchoo really did stare at her now. "Francie, there is no she. It's you."

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"Maybe on Hell Freezes Over day." Francine shook her head and wrapped her robe a little tighter around her shoulders. "I don't look like that." She might have the same haircolor as the woman on the easel, but the rest...

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

You do! You -- Geez, honey." Katchoo turned and angled herself to look Francine square in the face. "What the hell do you see when you look in the mirror?"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"Thirty more pounds and a double chin." Well, maybe one and a half chins.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"You know how the camera adds that much? The mirror's in league with it," Katchoo told her, trying for a joke. "I just draw what I see."

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine was silent for a moment, two or three or a hundred conflicting emotions rumbling in her stomach. "Maybe one of us needs glasses," she said at last, trying for funny herself, but missing by a mile.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo hadn't gotten great scores for humor herself there; the guarded note of hurt in her voice was worth at least a .5 standard deduction.

"Maybe. Something's wrong here, and I'm not seeing it." She hadn't meant to crumple the edge of the paper, but clenching her fingers around the side of the easel would do that. "What's the hangup here, Francine? I thought you were fine with this idea."

Or she'd hoped. Which might have been a stupidly optimistic moment for her.

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"I am! I mean, I was. I... I don't know." Francine pushed her hair back off her face, then had to scramble to stop the robe from falling down her arms. "I told you I wasn't so comfy with the naked part!"

Which single word she said so far under her breath that you'd think the dorm was bugged; she'd been less quiet when they were doing naked things in the room.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"I still don't see why not," Katchoo argued. "I've seen it all before."

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"Maybe." What Katchoo saw and what Francine saw were two different things, that was for sure. "But everybody else hasn't."

Just, um. A lot of people. Shut up.

"You haven't drawn me like that before."

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"I draw what I see," Katchoo answered, her voice cracking just a tiny bit. "What I see just happens to be breathtaking. Everybody else should see that too."

Chewie, considering you were there at the Puncture High school play, that was possibly the worst choice of words ever.

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"Isn't most of Puncture High and half of Fandom seeing me naked enough?" Francine shot back, not sure how to deal with the compliment in there and thus going with the sensible approach of not dealing with it.

"It's bad enough when there's a costume malfunction or I turn into some crazy stripper for a day...and then there was graduation and my mom was there. Again.." Francine might have managed to face that experience down with something like dignity, but that didn't mean she ever wanted to repeat it.

"God, if she saw a naked painting of me, that I posed for on purpose, she'd.... I don't even know!"

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"It's your life, Francine, not hers." Maybe it was easy for Katchoo to say that; she'd never given a good goddamn about her mother's opinion of her. "When are you gonna stop letting her live it for you?"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"I don't--oooh." The seeing red came on a five second time-delay. Lo, watch out for the flailing arms (and the slipping robe). "Really, Chewie? Really? If I let my mom live my life for me, do you think I'd be here?"

Here, as dictated by stabby fingers, was simultaneously this campus, this room, and two pushed-together beds.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately at this point Katchoo was looking at the world through fairly scarlet-tinted glasses herself. It didn't particularly help that Francine being right only added to her irritation.

"It's still holding you back!" That was less flailing arms and more an abrupt but deliberate swing of her arm, crashing into the easel and knocking it over. "You're so frikkin' afraid of what she thinks of you, it's keeping you from being everything you can be!"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine took a step back at the toppling of the easel, reminded unpleasantly of a chair smashing over, that first time they both turned into boys.

Still, though there was a shake in her voice, she spat out, "Who am I supposed to be, G.I. Jane?" before yanking her robe back up and stalking over to the dresser to find some clothes.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Dammit!" The memory of the chair had just caught up to Katchoo. "That's not what I meant, Francine, you know that!"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

Caught with her head half muffled in a sweatshirt, Francine grunted and didn't answer until she'd pulled it down and reached for her jeans. "Of course it's not. I may be slow, but I'm not stupid. You want me to be her."

Yanking the jeans up over her thighs, she struggled with trying to button them one-handed while pointing at the knocked-over canvas.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"THERE IS NO HER!" Katchoo caught herself before any more yelling drew unwanted attention from the rest of the dorm hallway (this means you, Margie McCoy) and took a breath, then continued in a lower voice.

Lower, but still akin to a rubber band stretched as far as it would go.

"Maybe that's your problem. You don't know who it is you want to be."

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

Oh. Oh hohohohoho.

Let's be skipping right past the part where that's undeniably true and just get incensed at the wording, shall we? Yes.

"My ."

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Had there been a speech bubble around those words, Katchoo would've had to dodge the icicles dangling from beneath it.

"Son of a $(#_@#! I didn't mean it like that, Francine!"

Re: IC

[thatsamilkshake]

"No, you never do. You always mean something else, that I'm too dumb to pick up until it's too late." Francine grabbed her purse off the desk beside the door and almost ripped the strap off when it caught on the chair.

"Well, hey, thank you for putting up with me even with all my problems; I know it's got to be hard. I'll just get out of your hair for a while and leave you to work on Miss Perfect over there without all my little distractions. Feel free to use your imagination; she probably looks better naked than me anyway."

Somehow the doors in Saint Louis didn't make quite as satisfying a SLAM as the ones in Fandom, but it would do. It would do.

--
[Also dammit:]

"My ."

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Dammit, Francine!"

That was what Katchoo meant to say, but the slamming of the door cut her off at about "Dammi --"

Clocky, who'd retreated under the bed when the yelling started, rolled out and tweeted a long, reproachful whistle at her; Katchoo aimed a kick at it, and only barely clipped a wheel with her toes.

Screw being here right now -- she didn't need to have a frikkin' alarm clock trying to guilt trip her, much less the charcoal sketch. No, the latter could just stay the hell on the floor, the former could do whatever the hell it did when she wasn't around, and Katchoo herself could wait just long enough to give Francine a head start before jamming her feet into her sneakers, grabbing her jacket, and storming off in a different direction.

God, they hadn't had a fight like that since the last time they'd both turned into guys, but she was too pissed off to appreciate the absurdity of that very Fandom-like standard of measurement. Pissed off, chain-smoking, and scuffing her way along the streets to a nearby art gallery; acerbic mental commentary on classical sculpture seemed like a good idea.

Well. Mostly mental commentary. The hastily-dashed-out sketch of a pair of female gremlins making distinctly obscene gestures that she left in the outstretched hand of a Rodin was more vocal.