Francine Peters (
thatsamilkshake) wrote2009-05-08 12:06 pm
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Room 511, Friday
If you think there were any Snickerdoodles left after yesterday, you obviously haven't met Francine Peters.
There were other cookies, of course. She'd have made them anyway, since she'd be a Big Sister to a new student starting tomorrow and she wanted to bring something to make them feel welcome, and ease them into the whole crazy experience of life in Fandom. There'd just be more cookies in the tin and less on Francine's bed, and she'd be a lot bouncier about the whole thing, if she wasn't worried sick.
As it was, even the baked goods were failing, and she'd actually dared to drag out The Book in the hope that the time she spent facepalming and hiding from even the most harmless-seeming pages -- gyaaaaah, the illustration at the beginning of the chapter on compatibility -- would serve to distract her.
It sort of worked, except for how it just made her worry in between the blushing that she might not ever get to try any of the things she was peeking at from between her fingers.
She meant to get up and shut the door fully, but well. Distracted.
[OOC: Open! But OMFG there will be book-hidey. Or at least attempts at book-hidey.]
There were other cookies, of course. She'd have made them anyway, since she'd be a Big Sister to a new student starting tomorrow and she wanted to bring something to make them feel welcome, and ease them into the whole crazy experience of life in Fandom. There'd just be more cookies in the tin and less on Francine's bed, and she'd be a lot bouncier about the whole thing, if she wasn't worried sick.
As it was, even the baked goods were failing, and she'd actually dared to drag out The Book in the hope that the time she spent facepalming and hiding from even the most harmless-seeming pages -- gyaaaaah, the illustration at the beginning of the chapter on compatibility -- would serve to distract her.
It sort of worked, except for how it just made her worry in between the blushing that she might not ever get to try any of the things she was peeking at from between her fingers.
She meant to get up and shut the door fully, but well. Distracted.
[OOC: Open! But OMFG there will be book-hidey. Or at least attempts at book-hidey.]
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This was one of those moments. "Nevermind," he told the room, as the door had now fully opened, "I can come back at another time."
And then his eyes fell on The Book.
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Arthur wasn't actually sure he wanted to know, not unless he could figure out some way to mock the piss out of M--.
He didn't rub his forehead, but it was a near thing. Barely a few seconds in, and he was having to make a valiant attempt to survive this already. "Francine," he tried again, "I've spoken to the Lady Zoe about the causeway and Merlin's disappearing act."
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Yes, The Book was what he thought that it was.
Certain parties, should they choose to stop their idiotic behaviour and return to him, were going to be mocked so very thoroughly.
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Sometimes, Arthur, you kind of sucked at inspirational.
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"Oh," she said again, without the good this time. And sat down on the bed, still clutching the book. "Nothing about why you can't get across the causeway to find him?"
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Yes, your mun was an evil bastard.no subject
Also, to be helpful. The operative word might be tried, though. "Maybe you have to really want to go home for it to work? I mean I know you want to, but maybe you don't really? Because some things about home sound... not so great." Mmm, tasty, tasty foot.
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Her answer just about did it for him, though. "You think I'd rather be here and hiding than at home defending my people?" he asked, offended.
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Oh, hell. He'd been doing so good at swallowing that one, too.
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Arthur found that their conversations were far more pleasant if he left before they could go beyond the necessities.
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And also that the cover had been facing out.
Luckily, there were snickerdoodles and denial.