Somewhere in the Preserve, Sunday Late Morning

[thismaskiwear]

There wasn't anything new or unusual about waking up with Francine, at least not to Katchoo's groggy way of thinking when she opened her eyes, except that all the times it had happened before had been a couple of years ago. And all those times she'd opened her eyes to the sight of Francine's bedroom, and the realization shortly thereafter of the ache from several dozen new bruises, cuts, and other injuries she'd rather not have thought about but which had been the entire reason she'd snuck over the previous night. Plus they'd been much more comfortable than being . . . curled up against a tree in the middle of the preserve.

And none of those times had ever been preceded by anything like last night. The familiar peace was the same, though, the surest feeling in the world that she was home and everything was right.

Katchoo had a (*#$#in' neck cramp going on, but she was reluctant to move, like if she so much as twitched the leg that must have gone numb hours ago and woke Francine, all of this would just dissipate like a bubble floating down and grazing a blade of grass.

[OOC: For the other crazy toongirl, of course.]

Comments

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Oh, god," Katchoo muttered. She really, really needed to shower. A lot. "Like I was all over him?"

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine risked a glance over at her. She couldn't put a name to the feeling that made her lips tighten a little at that, but saying, "Don't worry. He knows you're not into boys," made it... oh cool, twice as bad.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

"Mother@#&*()@ sonofa*#!)%," Katchoo snarled, and continued in that vein for several minutes.

Which probably wasn't helping either, was it?

[thatsamilkshake]

Not really, no. "Don't you go off on him, Katchoo. It's not his fault." Merlin was very, very lucky that neither of them knew it was.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

And also that Katchoo lived somewhat in fear of the Francine sadface.

"Did I say it was?" she snapped once she'd bled off enough of the random punctuation incoherent rage to form brief sentences again. "This is just . . . god, what a frikkin' mess."

She pushed herself slowly to her feet -- thanks for dropping by, fleeting but perfectly vivid memory of hanging on to Francine for balance last night. "We oughta get you back to the cabins, get a shower, all that crap."

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine turned another hiccup into a long, slow breath. "Yeah. Shower. Shower would be good." She shot another glance at Katchoo, but only made it about as high as her ankles this time. "Why don't you go first. There's only the one bathroom." She pointed in a direction she hoped was off toward the cabins. "I'll catch up."

That didn't count as walking away, not when you made the other person leave first.

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Sure, Francine, keep telling yourself that.

"You better go first. I might never get out of there." She knew damn well it was pretty much walking away with a thin veneer of finger-pointing on it, but Katchoo started picking her way toward (she hoped) the cabins anyway, just wanting to find her alcove and the stash of booze under the bed in there.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine leaned against the tree for a moment longer before she followed, fighting down the brief insane notion that times like this would be much better if she smoked.

Then fighting back the realization of how clearly she could remember the taste of tobacco on her lips.