Room 511, Wednesday Night

[thatsamilkshake]

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single girl in possession of a clarinet she's supposed to be practicing faithfully whose case she hasn't opened in at least four weeks, must be in want of anything that might prove a suitable distraction from opening same. Luckily for our heroine, she was also in possession of a cd player, Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band, and an empty ribbon-cola bottle that served as an excellent impromptu karaoke mic.

[OOC: Open post is open. Open door is...not as shut as Francine thinks it is.]

Comments

[thatsamilkshake]

"I get by with a little--URP!" Francine spun around at the sound. "That wasn't me, that was Ringo!" Just ignore the empty cola bottle she was still holding up to her mouth, 'kay?

[nottheclone.livejournal.com]

"Ringo kind of sounds like a girl," Wes notes, poking the door open the rest of the way and leaning against the frame.

[thatsamilkshake]

"He... was always more of a drummer than a singer?" Francine pointed out.

[nottheclone.livejournal.com]

"Does he like Oreos?" Wes ponders, holding up the bag of aforementioned cookies and giving it a little shake.

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine's eyes lit up. "He might. I could...save some for him!"

[nottheclone.livejournal.com]

"That's a good plan," Wes decides. "I think there's enough for the two of us too," he notes. Not that he'd set out with the intention of sharing cookies with anyone, much less invisible British drummers, but, well. He'd essentially invited himself in and it'd be kind of rude *not* to share, so.

[thatsamilkshake]

"We should probably have some now, then," Francine said with a grin. "Ringo's a huge cookie-hog. There won't be anything but crumbs if he gets to them first."