thatsamilkshake | Room 511, Friday after classes

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Room 511, Friday after classes

Francine, after a shockingly busy week, could be found where she could usually be found just before a big clothes-related event, particularly one involving boys: in the closet, in a state of complete obliviousness concerning the irony of that fact, in a continual ricochet between nervous and full of squee, and at least halfway into her homecoming dress. With pauses for messing with her hair and deciding which earrings didn't make her look like an idiot.

[OOC: Door is open, so is post. Expecting the BFF, but open for roomies, passing gypsies, tumbleweeds, and oh yeah, dates if they so desire!]

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Katchoo was on her way down to the carnival, as of yet blissfully (as blissful as this one ever got) unaware of what exactly she was expected to do, when she passed Francine's room, and poked her head in through the open door.

"I hear spazzing," she noted. "And no, that dress does not make you look fat."

Stupid date. He'd better appreciate it. Or maybe he'd better not.

"You haven't even seen it yet," Francine called back, rolling her eyes. She stepped out from behind the closet door, still trying to get the zipper fully done up in back. "Dork."

Silence for a few beats as Katchoo just gaped.

". . . wow," was the ever so objective and unbiased evaluation that came out of her mouth when she remembered how to do that speaking thing.

"...is it too short? Gahhhh, I knew it was too short!"

"What, are you kidding me?" demanded Katchoo. Hey, look, she was capable of sentences. "You look gorgeous, Francie."

"You're my best friend. You're legally required to say that." Which didn't stop Francine from blushing. "It's not too--" What you didn't repeat when hot shirtless boys said it was perfectly acceptable to say to your best friend, she decided. "Boobtastic?"

"Boobtastic? God, please. It's perfect, goofball," Katchoo retorted, still much with the gawking. "You look frikkin' fantastic. I could eat you with a spoon, okay?"

"Thanks." Francine giggled. "With a spoon? So I'm all smooshy like tapioca pudding? Is that what we're saying?"

"Or ice cream," Katchoo said, smiling more than she probably ever smiled in a month, otherwise. "Pick your spoonable dessert. Because tapioca? Euuugh."

"I pick ice cream!" Duh. "It's less lumpy."

"Vanilla, probably," Katchoo said. 'Honestly, Francie, you look amazing. If he doesn't appreciate it I'll knock his teeth in."

Come to think of it, she'd probably want to do that even if he did.

Francine's eyes widened. "Don't do that! He's nice!" She allowed herself a big grin. "And cuuuuute."

"Francie, that's half the school by your standard," Katchoo pointed out.

"This place really is full of hot guys." Francine sighed, missing any insult to her tastes completely. "I can't believe a boy who looks like that signed up for the matchmakey thing!"

"I never noticed," Katchoo said dryly. "Oh, come here and lemme help you zip up, will ya?"

"Sure, thanks." Francine turned around and bent slightly at the knees to make the top of the zipper accessible for ~~tiny midget blondes~~ people 8 inches shorter than her. "You should've signed up for it too - we could've double dated!"

Conveniently, Katchoo was behind her, futzing with a zipper that shouldn't be this complicated, and the look that said 'God, world, you suck so hard' was easy to hide.

"Yeah, sure . . . couldn't find a date who'd agree to wear the dress," she said, less animated now. "You have fun though."

Francine giggled again. "I bet there's some guys around here you could get to wear a kilt, at least." She spun around when she was zipped up at last, and went to give Katchoo an exuberant squeeze. "Thannnnnnnks!"

And now there was hugging, which was just as good for hiding the expression, but also very nice on its ow terms.

"Ew, Francine," Katchoo said, though it might have been muffled by Francine-hugs. "Knock 'em dead. Just not literally, since I can't make your bail, okay?"

"No knocking people dead with my boobtastic dress. Got it." She'd just have to be careful where she pointed them.

"I should go," Katchoo said reluctantly, and still kind of clinging. "I gotta help with the carnival apparently. You, have fun."

Amazingly enough, Jess did actually own nice clothes.

...okay, so it was one nice outfit, but it still counted, even if it made him uncomfortable to wear it.

When he was ready, he went up to Francine's room and knocked on the door to see if she was ready as well. He still couldn't believe he was going to a dance with someone he hardly knew, but at least she was a nice girl and not completely nuts ~~that he knew of~~.

Given the timing, Francine had a pretty good idea who was at the door. To which, of course, there was only one possible reaction:

awkjhskljdha;kjrgd;iugb;ieugvgvfk/ejnbd./kajwndigud'aiohd'lwknd/lakn;iut[dug'qiugd;iqwyfgd;qwidgqwodhwidbw;kdbwuydtwp8dw;idg97tA875786566666~^£¶ÆØ®♠

Just think what she could've managed if she'd actually been at a keyboard.

Right, Peters. Just remember what Ino said. Act confident until you believe it. Or... maybe at least until other people believe it.

She took a deep breath and opened the door like she hadn't just been spazzing for the last three hours. "Hi there."

Jess hadn't known what to expect. But for a supposed dork, he had to admit that Francine dressed up well. "Hey," he said. "You look really nice."

Dork!Francine would blush and stumble over her tongue and probably tell him he looked pretty, which he did, but you didn't say that, and that was so going to be the next thing out of her mouth now that she'd thought of it, helllp.

Faking-confidence!Francine at least managed not to have that conversation on the outside of her head. "Thank you. So do you!"

Edited 2008-10-10 22:46 (UTC)

"Am I early or anything?" Jess asked. "I can wait if you're still getting ready." It might have been noticeable that he didn't exactly do this sort of thing every day.

Sure, I could use another three days of spaz-time. Why not? Francine shook her head and smiled with as much poise as she could put into it. "You're right on time. I just need to grab my purse."

"Okay," Jess said. If nothing else, that gave him more time to run his fingers through his hair to make sure it looked okay. "Did you go to the carnival today?"

"There was a carnival today?" She'd been a little too focussed on spazzing, apparently. Damn, she'd missed cotton candy?

"You look lovely," Alice smiled, pinning another butterfly into her hair. "That color suits you. I swear you're glowing."

"Glowing? Oh God, I look pregnant?" Oh, Francine, shut up. Actually, she seriously said that. Out loud. "Oh, Francine, shut up. Please pretend I just said 'thank you, you look great too, those butterflies are adorable.' "

"Pregnant women glow?" Alice asked. "They always seem rather cross to me. I meant your skin, it's very rosy. And would you like a butterfly? I seem to have extra."

Really, it was a relief that Alice hadn't decided to conjure some elaborate statue out of her butterflies and walk around with a ten-pound attachment on the side of her head.

"That's what my mom and aunts always say. Isn't she just glooooowing?" Francine answered with a shrug. "And ooh, really? They're so pretty. I was thinking about putting my hair up, if I can get it so it doesn't just come flopping down in my face again."

"Please, help yourself," Alice smiled, nodding to the errant plastic butterflies scattered around. "Do you need assistance, with your hair? I haven't quite the skill for anything too fancy, but I can manage a clean upsweep, which is terribly useful. And braids, which are fun to twirl."

(OOC: OH HEY, WAY TO CLOSE THE WINDOW, SELF)

"Oh, wow. That'd be great," Francine said, smiling widely. "I'm not so handy with anything that doesn't involve shoving it back in a ponytail or a hair-band."

Alice gathered together her brush, combs, bobby pins, and whatnot. "Far too likely to reach for hair-bands myself," she confessed. "But keeping it out of my own eyes was always a useful skill. All of it up? Except the bangs?"

"That sounds good," Francine said, nodding and sitting down despite the nervous energy. "Thanks so much for doing this."

"Not at all," she beamed, running a brush lightly through her roommate's hair. "I used to braid my sister's hair, it's very soothing. Though she'd yell when I pulled her hair. I will be as careful as possible, and I trust in turn you won't stick your tongue out at me, so we're already on far better terms."

"You wouldn't be able to see it if I did," Francine pointed out with a giggle. "...Except in the mirror. But at least I'd be sticking it out backwards then."

"If you can bend your tongue in such fascinating ways, you ought to charge people to show them," Alice laughed.

It only sounded dirty if you weren't Victorian and completely oblivious.

(OOC: lates ate me O.@)

Or Francine and... completely oblivious. "Well, I can bend it a lot..." she said, trying it out by way of demonstration.

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Room 511, Friday after classes

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