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

[thismaskiwear]

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.]

Comments

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

[thatsamilkshake]

That girl that lived there in that not-that-big room with her had to come back to it sometimes -- and it wasn't even like they were Not Talking. Not really. They were just Not Talking About That.

Or... as much. Or...as non-awkwardly. Or...or okay, so maybe she'd been spending a lot more time Not There, this last week or so. To, you know. Hide from the chance of uncomfortable discussions. Give her space. To paint without Francine's issues getting dealt with in the way.

But she did have to come home sometimes. This time, there was pizza. "Hey."

And awkward. Pizza and awkward.

[bitchprince]

After that whole... regrettable incident... with calling Francine and chickening out of actually talk about that-- um.

...Arthur had decided that he didn't, particularly, want to talk about that.

Girls. Emotions. Stuff.

Still, eventually, he grudgingly agreed that he might wish to lend Katina some support; at least that had the added benefit that Katchoo was more likely to shout than cry, which at least improved his odds some.

And so her phone was ringing. Warily, if there was such a thing.