thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Very Very Early Wednesday Morning (Later Than 325. More Stairs to Climb.)

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Room 505, Very Very Early Wednesday Morning (Later Than 325. More Stairs to Climb.)

"So you think I should call home and ask Mom for tips on getting out bloodstains?" Francine asked when they finally made it back to their room in an attempt at .... anything that wasn't falling flat on her face the second she managed to get the door open.

That would hurt, since her face currently sported a large bruise and a split lip.

[OOC: For the Wee Yappy BFF. And SP, oh God yes.]

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"Should I ask what exactly she said to you?" Probably not this soon after trauma, no.

And yet. "That you...worked for her. That you--" She paused, both tripping over the words and hating them. "You and her."

Katchoo slumped back against the wall with one brief nod, not looking up at Francine. She didn't say a word; she didn't think she needed to.

"I wish Merlin had thrown her harder."

Now Katchoo huffed a brief laugh. "Yeah, me too. It's still better than she deserves."

"She had that flower on her ankle. She said it meant you were hers. That you owed her." Seriously. If Merlin could have transferred his powers to Francine right about then? There'd be ashes. "Like just because she didn't hit you she was any better than what you left Houston to get away from."

"We all had the flower. All of Darcy's . . . people did." It was not escaping Katchoo that Francine's anger was directed at Darcy. "Hitting would've been a lot less cruel, Francie."

It was simpler by a long shot.

"I know that." She knew that because the hitting was the less cruel part in Houston too, but she didn't feel she needed to say it. "You're not hers, Chewie. You're not her people, you're not her anything."

"The normal world's rules of possession don't matter much to her," Katchoo said dryly. "And now you know why I flipped out about your scar."

"Yeah. She thought you did it. She said it was like giving her a present." She wasn't being thoughtlessly - or deliberately - cruel. It was just something that needed to be said, so she could say the other part.

Katchoo rubbed a hand on -- there really wasn't a clean patch of her jeans left, but whatever came the closest, so she could take the change of clothes from Francine.

"Seeing her mark on you was closer than I ever wanted you to have to get to her."

"I don't give a good goddamn about what she thinks." Francine caught at her hand when she reached for the clothes. "It's not her mark, Katchoo. That's not what it means to me."

Katchoo wasn't going to pull away; in fact her fingers curled very slightly around Francine's hand. "What's it mean to you, then, 'sides surviving the magic plague?"

"It means you. It means that you're always gonna be with me."

It means you can't own somebody else, but you can belong to them.

To hell with the bloodstains or any of it; Katchoo reached out to pull Francine a tight hug. "Even in other worlds where cell phone reception kinda sucks."

"Even there." Francine's hand tangled in blood-caked hair when she tried to rub it across Katchoo's back, so she let it rest where it was. "Are you gonna believe me someday, when I say there's nothing you could do that would make me not love you? 'Cause I'll keep saying it, I don't mind, but it hurts to have you think I'm a liar."

"I never thought you were a liar, Francie." Katchoo had to turn her head to the side so as to not sound all muffled what with the hugging. "I just never knew if you factored all that -- stuff I did when you thought I was in Ohio in with 'nothing.'"

"And you never would've known, if I hadn't found out by accident," Francine pointed out, pulling back a little to look at her.

"And I nearly got you killed. Look at your poor face, and Merlin's bruises." And Bambi right there. "If you'd known, and I'd told you not to come after me . . .?"

"I would've done the same damn thing, you dumbass!" She was not yelling. ...Much. "I'd just have made sure we got Arthur and Agent Gibbs first, because we'd have known what we were up against."

...Maybe she would have done that. In hindsight it sounded good, anyway.

Everything sounded good in hindsight. But Katchoo'd let her have this one. "And had the baked goods packed and ready to go?"

Joke. Joke. Was it her fault she'd been craving a muffin while hiding out in that crappy motel?

"See, why do my awesome psychic powers only tell me things like 'somebody's gonna shoot Katchoo and you won't recognize them til the gun's already pointed' and not 'remember to pack muffins?' "

Joke. Joke. That.... happened to be hitherto-unrevealed news, more than slightly bitter, and either narrative-ready or an example of her awesome psychic powers in action.

Quick flick of Katchoo's eyes down to the spot covered by bloodstained clothing where Francine's lily-shaped scar was, then back up.

"You saw that? You saw that?"

"Way back when I was sick and saw a bunch of stuff at once, there was somebody firing a gun. I only realized it was Bambi when she was just about to do it. Super-helpful, right?"

"If you could refine that so you could get warning when a fly ball's about to hit you in the face at a baseball game, at least," Katchoo considered, "it might be helpful then. Otherwise . . . you see things like that. And me in a mirror, and -- what else?"

She hadn't asked, ever. She kind of failed at BFFitude that way.

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