thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Sunday Evening

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Room 505, Sunday Evening

Right. Francine could do this. After a weekend of letting her mom in on what Fandom was really like (with a few spare moments for meeting other people's families), she was absolutely ready to bring up the other little tiny thing that might have escaped her mother's attention for the last year.

Or the last few months, depending on whether you were counting how long that little tiny thing had been in Fandom, or how long she'd been living with it.

Francine gave a couple warning knocks before pushing the door open. "So I know I promised I'd introduce you to my roommate before you leave, Mom," she said fairly loudly, just in case that wasn't warning enough.

[OOC: This is going to go so well. For her and her and so much SP omg.]

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Marie's lips thinned into a line. "I see." She gave Katchoo a scrutinizing once-over, about the visual equivalent of a steel wool scrubbing, then shot a look at Francine, who'd been going to tell her this, oh, when, exactly?

"I was gonna mention it sooner, but..." Yeah, how to say 'You've never liked my best friend in the world and you never managed to hide that from me, Mom, so jeez, what makes you think I'd let you know she was here so you could give us both crap about it at best and I dunno, yank me home at worst?' "I was afraid you'd have that face."

"Well, I suppose this explains a few things about why Francine has been so happy here," Marie said finally, still with the forcibly-exfoliating look on her face. "When she was so insistent about wanting to stay on for the school year I wondered why."

Francine gave her the most cautious look in the history of cautious looks. "That was why. Mostly. Yes."

"Francine got here before I did," Katchoo jumped in. "I didn't know she was here when . . . my aunt sent me. 'sides, she's got other friends here."

She sort of figured Francine wouldn't mind too much if she took a figurative bullet for her.

Friends who, Marie hoped, were a better influence than the Choovanski girl. "That was a problem at home, yes," she said. Pointedly.

Ow.

"Not better friends." She kind of did have a problem with that bullet, actually. Though only because she was trying to make a point and it only half had to do with her mother. "Good ones, but not better."

"I do have to say you're looking in better shape than you were, Katina," Marie noted, almost friendly for a minute. "Whatever you were up to while you were away must have agreed with you."

Not an awkward statement. At all.

[[asl;djflakjsdlkfj ICON.]]

Not at aaaaaaaaaaaaaall.

"More like Fandom must agree with me," Katchoo said, despite the initial weirdness of the statement, and unable to help a quick glance at Francine when she said it. "Been here a year and all."

Yeah, that quick glance at Francine would have got the pained wince off Marie's statement that she was probably expecting. Katchoo's just got, "Which I was planning to tell you. Really." For like... the last two days.

"Except you were worried she wasn't going to be happy about it," Katchoo said, "and you wouldn't be wrong about that, would you?"

Francine shot a look at her mother that oughtn't to have been a shot, but she was a coward sometimes, still. "Would I?"

Marie Peters might not be Katchoo's biggest fan, but she wasn't a mean-spirited person either. "I can't say I'm thrilled, sweetie. But you have plenty of good influences here too, and Merlin's a lovely boy even if his ears are going to look strange in family portraits."

"Katchoo's a good influence, Mom," Francine argued immediately, missing for a moment the part where this was not her mom throwing a fit at her. "She makes me believ--* what about Merlin's ears?"

* Look, just be glad she got interrupted. She's not as good a singer as Tara and we all know how that song ends and her mother is here.

Ignore how Katchoo, in the background, looked like she wanted to bash her head into the wall.

"I'm just saying, honey, if we send out Christmas cards with Santa hats people are going to think he's an elf."

I'm not going to marry him, Mom. Wow, who knew she could say that without any break in her voi-- oh right. She didn't say it out loud.

"No one will notice; they'll be too blinded by Arthur's teeth." Her mom could keep her idea of family portraits; Francine had her own.

"But why," Marie asked over Katchoo's muffled snicker, "would Arthur be in the -- Francine!"

"...What?"

Actually Marie was too caught up in the squeeful notion of possibly being practically related to royalty to have any ~~dirty, people, DIRTY~~ thoughts like that.

"Oh, don't mind me, honey," she said blithely. "I'm just glad to see my little girl's doing so well."

Living situation aside and all.

"That's--" Reassuring enough to almost make Francine's brain explode. "--goo- MUFFINS NO. I like those shoes!"

What. Of course the dog was here all along. Where else would it be?

OH LOOK CONVENIENT DISTRACTION. And less UM-inducing than, say, if Muffins had found the porn.

"Muffins! Bad dog!" Marie scampered to scoop up the puppy, who was not thrilled about nommus interruptus. "I miss you, honey, but I haven't seen you this happy since . . ."

Well.

Since before someone in this room had gone and run away.

MUFFINS, DON'T FIND THE PORN. NEVER FIND THE PORN. After all, Francine hasn't even watched it yet.

"I am happy, Mom." You know, in between the plagues and the kidnappings and the pot brownies and the death visions and the sexual confusion. "This is where I'm supposed to be."

Muffins might only find the porn if there was a jailbreak from Marie's arms, which at the moment wasn't likely.

Poor dog.

"Well, if you're sure, sweetheart." Don't mind the dubious glance Katchoo-ward as Marie drifted over to give Francine a hug.

Don't mind the stifled YIP! as Francine hugged back, followed by the muttered "I didn't like this sweater anyway."

Edited 2009-10-06 21:57 (UTC)

It was okay. She'd get a whole bunch of new knitted ones come Christmas anyway.

"By the way," Marie half whispered despite the stifled yipping, "you are using protection, aren't you?"

Surprise, Francine, she's on to you!

Totally the dog fur she was choking on. "MOM!"

Marie was perfectly innocent, thank you.

Katchoo was dying of apoplexy on her bed, in case you were wondering.

"I'm not in a rush to have grandchildren, you know. Oh, honey, you didn't think I could tell?"

"How could you POSSIBLY tell?!"

Francine, what part of that thing you just said sounded like a denial? None part, that's right. None part.

"Mothers have their ways of knowing these things." The angelic face. Oh, the angelic face.

It was either look at her and figure out a way to pronounce alskjdgasliudhasipdguya;siudtgai;sdguyal;usyfd;iuasgdi;usy9py9868ETYIPUYIUgjkhgjkhgluygliub;ouo;iqwulxk/;l*&^*)&^(%tuyg&I^Ffjhbk/jbsakljh;iuguyfa;odgasodgh/ahjlijijiougsduyagv;iusgisdpouoiIREIYTFIB"Oihoiohouhdoihdowidhi;ugdb;iuxbisubhiuh;iuhÇ©fytfiuoopipoiohsouiho;'hSSDFGdgjfdjgfdÅ out loud, or turn on the apoplectic one with a shaky, pointy finger.

"YOU! Don't you start! I have pictures of Morgana. Don't think I won't drag them out!"

The apoplectic one could be loud, but who in this room didn't know that?

"FRANCINE! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE BURNED THOSE!"

"Don't you dare. She was adorable!"

Francine, you think 99 out of 100 children are adorable and you're nice to the hundredth because you feel guilty.

Edited 2009-10-07 03:22 (UTC)

Oh, look, both of them were getting the [INSERT FULL NAME HERE], YOU ARE GOING TO SPILL AND DO IT NOW look from Marie.

"Was adorable? Morgana?"

Francine did the utterly mature thing and stuck her tongue out in the no-longer-apoplectic's direction. "Every so often the island likes to, um. Show people what their future children might be like."

"Possible future children," Katchoo growled with four times more emphasis than strictly necessary. "Sometimes in completely insane realities that are never, ever, ever going to happen."

Which made Francine glance at her feet for a moment, because yeah. "Right."

"Only some of them," Katchoo amended very quickly, and in a much softer tone. "They're not all crazy talk."

But. But mine were. But she wasn't going to get into that in front of her mother. But.

"Next time you get to have the kid with Chuck Bass," she said instead.

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Room 505, Sunday Evening

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