thismaskiwear | Katchoo and Francine's Dorm Room, St. Louis (Tuesday Fandom Time)

Entry tags:

Katchoo and Francine's Dorm Room, St. Louis (Tuesday Fandom Time)

Yeah, you try living in the same not-that-big room as someone you'd had a nasty fight with not all that long ago; it wasn't all that fun, especially if you were like Katchoo and had a tendency to let these things simmer.

. . . if you were Katchoo, you also had a tendency to work these things out through painting. That explained the oil-based chaos strewn all around one side of the room (much to Clocky's indignation, but then again Clocky was always indignant in her view) and the sketchbooks and various paraphernalia scattered across her desk. Sure, painting people -- certain people, anyway -- was still a touchy subject, but she had a visual memory, and sketches, and was working from that.

With a cigarette dangling from the corner of her mouth, naturally.

From the rough staccato whisk of her brushes against the canvas, it was pretty obvious that she wasn't in the best of moods, but hey -- welcome to her last couple of weeks that way.

[OOC: Open for phone calls and that girl what lives there with her. Also, I must share Terry Moore's latest toongirls-as-superheroes sketch because it amuses me.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Bacon and mushroom okay?" Because she could totally do something about it at this point if it wasn't?

The point was... it was something to say, was the point.

"'s fine," Katchoo answered more clearly that time.

Usually they'd make jokes about the mushrooms right now, wouldn't they? With the Fat Man voice and hijinks that would scandalize the neighbors if they weren't living in a college dorm.

A few more brushstrokes, and she set the painting aside for the moment; she was hungry, actually, and going for the pizza with incredibly paint-smeared hands.

"You're gonna end up eating paint and poisoning yourself. Here."

Napkins. Nothing could stop Francine from being a mom. Nothing. Not even Epic Awkward.

Katchoo wasn't looking when she reached out for the napkins, so if there was any hand contact there . . . well . . . oops?

"As much of it as I've gotten in my mouth by now, you'd think if I was gonna, I would've."

And if there was any accidentally-maybe lingering there, well, oops too.

"It is kind of amazing that your tongue isn't dyed rainbow colors by now."

Katchoo huffed an uneasy laugh, but didn't exactly pull her hand back. "The cigarette smoke cancels that out."

Francine let it slip free, though, in the tongue-biting --stupid, stupid-- aftermath of, "I guess if anything was going to poison you, it'd be those, not the paint."

Katchoo bit back the snarky retort she could have made, being all too aware of how excruciatingly awkward a week-and-change-old fight still was without any extra help.

"Francie." The nickname snuck in before she could help it. "Not now?"

Francine let her eyes fall closed, half from the tone and half from the name and an extra half from being so, so tired of this.

"Yeah, okay." Eyes open again but cast down, she reached for a slice of pizza and added a quiet, "Sorry," that was nowhere near casual enough for nagging about cigarettes, if not so loud that it could be taken to mean Sorry for everything, ever.

'Everything, ever' was a hell of a lot, and Katchoo wasn't so optimistic (ever) that she'd be willing to say you could cover that in a five-letter word. (There were a lot of other things that could be covered in four-letter words, but that was beside the point.)

Oh, look. Free hands, and napkins, and what she'd said to Arthur about the less-than-admirable ways society had evolved away from public execution still on her mind; she spent a little too much mental focus on wiping the paint off as best she could before gesturing toward the pizza box again.

"Yeah," she answered, just enough of a break in her voice to hint that it wasn't the blow-you-off kind of acknowledgment, more like me too but that takes more words than I can get out of my mouth right now. Then, taking an awkward step or two toward the bed --

"You wanna eat now?"

Francine nodded, a handful of her own napkins creating a makeshift plate to carry her pizza slice to the bed because... well, because she forgot to ask for paper plates, shut up.

But then that seemed stupid, or maybe she was just way too focused on everything that seemed stupid, so she turned back to just grab the whole pizza box. If plopping that down on the bed beside her created a nice, safe No Man's Land, it wasn't really intentional.

"Are you--" But she trailed off before even finishing the thought, much less the sentence, because it had to do with whatever had got the paint on Katchoo's hands in the first place, and that just seemed like a bad road to walk.

The subject of whatever had gotten the paint on Katchoo's hands in the first place was . . . the same subject that had led to a stupid mundane conversation about pizza being cosmically difficult.

"Hungry?" she offered instead, a weak stab at a joke.

"Well, if you're not, I know what we're having for breakfast tomorrow." Francine nudged the pizza box.

Katchoo would get the piece of pizza where the cheese insisted on stringing out forever, or at least long enough that she was in danger of having a too-short-arms problem.

It was annoying, but a quick and easy sort of thing to find amusing.

"It does have bacon and mushrooms. We could fry an egg and slap it on top . . ."

"Katchoo, that's dis--" Francine stopped. "Actually that sounds really good. I must be hungrier than I thought."

Or have a head injury. Katchoo shoudld try mentioning liver to test that.

Actually the fried egg sounded really good, but.

"Are you?" Katchoo stuck two fingers up in a V and waved them around in front of Francine's face. "Let's see. How do you feel about sticks of butter? Or liver sandwiches?"

"Ewwwwwww." Francine's mouth was practically an inverted V. "That is disgusting." She shook her head and reached for another slice of pizza, dislodging a mushroom onto Katchoo's paint-spattered jeans in the process.

"I mean who puts liver in a sandwich?"

Results: inconclusive.

Entirely.

Katchoo looked down at the mushroom, which had landed on a pretty fresh splotch of red, and sighed melodramatically. "A moment of silence for the poor fungus."

Picking it up, she held it out between thumb and forefinger. "What does this piece say to you?"

Francine blinked at it for a moment. "If you eat me quick, I fall under the five second rule?"

That joke worked better with art students, but the answer was so perfectly Francine that Katchoo had to laugh, if only for a second.

"The five-second rule of bleah," she amended, turning the mushroom to show off the -- paint. Not sauce, no matter how much it looked like it.

"Okay, no. I draw the line at food that actually has paint on it." Francine reached over to snatch it away and drop it on the box lid. "You are not allowed to poison yourself."

"Geez, Francie, I wasn't going to eat it!" Note Katchoo not attempting to make a grab at the discarded mushroom, as evidence.

Making a grab at Francine's hand, maybe.

Okay, that, definitely.

This time Francine didn't let it drop away. "Well, you said eeuw, but you just said liver sandwiches before that, so how am I s'posed to tell? You might have a head injury or something. Or inhaled too many paint fumes."

"You're the one who thought fried eggs on pizza sounded delicious," Katchoo countered. Never mind that it didn't sound bad to her either. "I had to check."

"You're the one who came up with the idea in the first place." There might have been tongue there. Not the especially sexy kind, but it was still more lighthearted than this room had seen in a while.

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)

Re: Aaaafter any phone calls, which means SP is our friend. (When isn't it?)