Francine Peters (
thatsamilkshake) wrote2009-11-10 11:24 pm
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Room 505: Tuesday Night
Thoroughly showered and de-veggie-gutted, Francine, wet hair draped over her shoulder, was picking at way too much take-out from the diner and eying the tray of lemon squares like she might just skip dinner entirely and go straight to dessert.
Any resemblance to the picking she was doing at events of this week in general or last night in particular was purely coincidental. In some universe.
[OOC: For various members of the clustre du fucque.]
Any resemblance to the picking she was doing at events of this week in general or last night in particular was purely coincidental. In some universe.
[OOC: For various members of the clustre du fucque.]
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Merlin pouted as best he could, rubbing his head on her arm.
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Merlin truly wished he had eyebrows to to raise at her for that one.
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...and now Merlin was bobbing his head eagerly. Oh yes. That was a plan.
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Merlin bobbed his head in understanding, warbling in a way that he assumed said 'go on' and not 'I am planning to eat your soul'.
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"She didn't freak out." That's because she's not you, Francine. "I mean, I didn't think she would. I know her. But..." But she was pretty much conditioned to assume people would, and she'd known that a lot longer than she'd known Dinah. "I guess was still a little afraid anyway."
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He warbled again to that effect. Because clearly he needed to.
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Merlin hissed and stayed fluffed up for about five seconds before snagging another bit of the burger.
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Merlin nodded, leaning against her again.