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

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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.]

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"You better remember that the next time I'm carrying it and spill it all over the floor."

Not that that had ever happened.

More then once.

Every few months.

"Soooooooo."

Katchoo weighed the odds of having to get up and run, then decided, screw it.

"Next week, then?"

"Ooh, you...." Francine considered several options, but most of them involved letting go of Katchoo's hand, and there seemed to be some really sticky cheese on it or something, because she didn't seem to be able to do that.

On the other hand, the other hand was free, and would you look at that? Beds come with pillows on them! Who knew?

"Francine, not the pizz--mmph!"

Poor bacon and mushroom slice.

"....Whoops." Poor pillowcase, too.

"Chewie?"

"'m still alive," came the muffled reassurance from somewhere on the other side of that poor pillowcase (and the pillow inside it). "I think."

"Not what I was gonna ask, but also important." Francine pulled the pillow away and set about checking Katchoo's hair for wayward mushrooms.

No wayward mushrooms there, but there was a splotch of pizza sauce on her chin.

"Oh, good, as long as we have our priorities straight." Not that Katchoo's tone had been all that light to begin with, but it did ramp up a notch or two of serious. "What was the question?"

"Can we be not fighting now?" Oh look, a mushroom. Or at least Francine was going to pretend she'd found one and was studying it intently. "Because that sucked."

"Vacuum cleaners everywhere were jealous." There wasn't really a bit of cheese on Francine's cheek, but Katchoo could reach up and brush her fingertips across it as if there was, right? "God, yes, we can be not fighting now."

"Good. I was getting tired of Clocky glaring at me every time I got up and left for class early."

"And running over my toes afterward . . ." Their clock was not only sentient, but a shipper. Go figure.

There was an offended-sounding tweedliert from under the bed which Francine steadfastly ignored. "Sorry. I mean... not just about the toes. I guess maybe I'm just... not very brave sometimes."

Katchoo could agree with that, but she just shrugged. "You also have a mom who gives a shit about you," she added gruffly. "Makes sense for you to return the favor."

She still didn't entirely agree with the sentiment, but cooldown time and talking to Arthur made it a little more . . . well, logical.

"I don't--" But she didn't want to get into the parts where it wasn't just about her mother, maybe wasn't even mostly about her mother. "I don't want to do everything in my life worrying about what she might think. But with this... it's just too personal. I don't mind sharing that stuff with you, but it's not for the rest of the world -- her or anybody else. And when I was posing for you it felt like I was in front of the rest of the world. That's what made me so nervous."

"They're paintings, Francie." Katchoo absently reached out to brush away a stray lock of hair from Francine's face. "Paintings that don't have to go anywhere outside this room if you don't want 'em to."

Leaving aside the logistics of moving out of the dorm eventually, but this is what drop cloths were for . . .

"I know, but..." Francine dropped her chin a bit, glancing at their hands. "I don't know. I need more time to think about it than I thought I did, I guess. And you should be able to paint things you can show people! Isn't that the whole point?"

"Pffffffffffft." Katchoo waved a pizza-sauce-spattered hand. "Things like this, Francie? I paint 'em because I care that much. It's --"

She blew out a breath, trying to find the right words to explain it.

"Some people write poems. I do this."

There wasn't a lot Francine could say to that; caught between touched and guilty, she could only nod. "I... maybe I can, you know? But give me some time, okay?"

Patience: hardly one of Katchoo's virtues, but damn if she couldn't at least try, for Francine's sake. (Damn if she didn't try more for Francine's sake than she ever did for anything else in her life.)

"Yeah, sure." She reached up to touch Francine's cheek. "Time -- I can give you that."

To the beep from the closet, she had to add, "Not you."

"I hope we don't have to give him the time, or he's really falling down on the job."

Was that a cheek leaning into that hand? Yes, yes it was.

Were those fingers flexing lightly against that cheek, then? All signs pointed to yes.

Was Katchoo leaning in slightly? Highly possible as well.

"Damn. We can't threaten to not give 'im a raise, either."

"We could bribe him to stay in the closet..."

No comment, Clocky. None.

A muffled thump of indignation against the wall didn't count as a comment, did it?

. . . who cared, really?

"That might work." Katchoo was totally snuggling in a little bit. "Hell, it's not like we can threaten not to change his batteries."

How the hell that damn clock kept running was beyond her.

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

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?)