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

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

It certainly said something to the skinny, bespectacled Asian guy with what even he would admit if pressed was possibly the dorkiest haircut ever, who walked over and picked it up after Katchoo had moved on to the next work of art. Quite what the sketch said (or what those creatures were even supposed to be), he couldn't tell yet, but it certainly wasn't due to lack of volume.

Unlike his own voice when he caught up with her, which required a crack and a cough before it sounded like he might actually be over eighteen. "Interesting commentary you made back there."

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Sexist shit," Katchoo snarled without turning around, thereby proving that her people skills were as charming as ever.

She kept walking; most people usually got the clue to leave her alone at that point.

Re: IC

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

Ahahahahaha. Most people weren't David Qin. (Including David Qin, once.)

"You seem intrigued by this piece, though." The one she was probably staring at to avoid making eye contact with him, yes. "What does it say to you?"

And would it involve tiny obscene creatures with big ears? He could build up a collection of sketches, if nothing else came of this encounter.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

It would involve obscenity.

Not to mention Katchoo whirling on him with a facial expression she had to have stolen from the Weeping Angels and a snarled "PISS OFF!"

That was the answer to the question, by the way.

Re: IC

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

Well, that went well.

Two options here: he could slink away and...probably never talk to her again directly in his life, or he could go for broke, since he was pushing his life luck here anyway.

"Interesting interpretation."

Broke it was, then. Let's just hope that didn't apply to his nose.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Not yet, it wouldn't.

"Innit, though?" Katchoo drawled, none too pleasantly, as she started to walk away again.

Okay, she was vaguely curious as to whether he'd take the hint this time . . . so far he was more persistent than most.

Re: IC

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

Hey, she hadn't broken his face yet! That was a positive sign, right?

So yes, that would be a skinny, bespectacled Asian guy following her out of the gallery.

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

It'd been overcast when she'd come here, but now it was outright pouring, not that Katchoo cared; she blinked water out of her eyes as she sloshed through the puddle at the foot of the gallery steps.

"What are you, deaf?" she yelled at him over her shoulder, then stopped to turn and really glare at him again. "What part of 'piss off' did you not understand?"

Re: IC

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

David gave her his sunniest (well, rainiest), innocentest, please-don't-hit-me-I-only-have-the-one-face-est smile. "Well, there were some attribution issues. Is the sculpture telling me to piss off, or are you?"

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Damn Fandom for building up her tolerance for persistently perky people; Katchoo couldn't keep that up. It was like watching a dog chase after an ambulance, and not being able to help rooting for the dog.

She jammed her hands into her pockets and peered at him through the rainwater dripping steadily from her hair. "Were you hoping for one or the other of those?"

Re: IC

[drawingbreath.livejournal.com]

"It does make a difference," he answered earnestly. "I mean, do I give up all hope of having a cup of coffee with you, or a big yellow trapezoid with purple swirls?"

Re: IC

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"That abstract impressionist crap is lame anyway," Katchoo allowed. Damn him and his earnestness. "What the hell? It's a coffee kind of day."

As long as they didn't end up at the place across the street from her dorm; she didn't want to deal with Casey today. Not that she knew it, but that, at least, she had in common with Francine right now.