thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Sunday Night

Current Mood: kicking back

Entry tags:

Room 505, Sunday Night

Francine was technically still on Thanksgiving break, what with having no classes until Wednesday, so little things like 'clean clothes for the week' or even 'unpacking from the trip to New Gotham' were taking a backseat to sprawling on her bed and.... sprawling on her bed. That was pretty much it, really.

Not, for instance, missing Wee Baby Merlin, now in Karla's care, because that would be ridiculous. Just sprawling.

[OOC: Expecting the bffroomiepersonthing, but open for wanderers by too.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Did it help the missing thing that Katchoo had a still-unnamed droid baby when she made it into the room a few minutes later, kicking her bag along the floor in front of her rather than try to pick it back up? Or maybe that she decided to go over and sit on the edge of Francine's bed rather than her own once the bag was sufficiently kicked out of tripping range?

"I know I have two days before I have anything to do, but I still protest this weekend being over."

It might have helped, though the still-unnamed part was a little worrying. Francine scooted over to make room for sitting that was not on the edge of the bed. There might even be room for co-sprawling if they were careful!

"Define over? We've both got two whole days before we have anything to do."

Well, yes, it was a bit worrying. But then, look at what she got named.

"It's the whole Sunday night thing," Katchoo said, sprawling out with the baby on her stomach, close enough for Francine to join in the this-was-not-quite-cuddling if she wanted. "Means Monday's right around the corner. I hate that part."

"Yeah, but it's a Monday where we can sleep in and roll out of bed at noon and have ice cream for breakfast if we want," replied Francine, rolling onto her side so she could in fact join in the this-was-not-quite-cudding by resting an arm over Katchoo's middle, somewhere near Unnamed Baby Girl Gorlois-Choovanski. "We don't even have to call it Monday. We can call it Sunday Two."

"Sunday Two? I like that. Even though it'd throw everybody's calendars off. Ice cream for breakfast? Isn't that setting a bad example for the kids?" Katchoo tucked her head in near Francine's shoulder. "Oh, god. I sound domestic already."

"Well, we could make it ice cream on waffles. Then it would be ...kind of healthy."

"We could get those mini-waffles, make 'em ice cream and waffle sandwiches . . ." Neither of them was fantastic about proper nutrition, apparently.

"Ooh, we could roll the waffles into cones!" Yes, Francine. That's how they were... never mind. And she'd be good about proper nutrition when there were actual kids. Mostly. For them.

"Uh, Francie? They have those at Chilly Boulder." What? She was being helpful.

"Not with maple syrup inside 'em, they don't."

She'll see your non-nutritious and raise you ahahahah.

"Francine!" Katchoo blurted out, and quickly regretted it when anything she might've said next was drowned out by the not-so-dulcet tones of robobaby crying, and the subsequent flailing around for where the hell was that damn bottle this does not count as swearing in front of the -- oh crap, can the robobaby read the narrative?

It was programmed by Anakin. Thus, entirely possible.

"See?" Francine patted the baby's head. "Wee Baby Tellmeshehasanamebynow agrees with me. Maple syrup is essential. Builds strong bones and healthy bodies."

"She has a name, she just hasn't told me what it is." Oh, god, that sounded pretentious. Also lame. The important part was Katchoo had found the bottle and could actually say that and be heard. Wait. Maybe that was a bad thing, given pretentious and -- sigh.

"I thought that was milk, Francie."

"If you can't tell the difference between maple syrup and milk, you obviously need a refresher course," Francine told her. "...please tell me we're not waiting for our children to be able to talk before they get names?"

"Ours?" Allow Katchoo a moment, if you would, to get a very un-Katchoo-like warm fuzzy feeling over that word there. "Nah. We'll name 'em. Don't know the difference between maple syrup and milk, my -- I know the difference, you goober."

"Oh, really? What's the difference, smarty-pants?"

"Length of time in the shower," Katchoo told her, patting Wee Baby Sorrycan'ttellyoushehasanamebynowohgodpleasestopcrying on the back.

"...What've you been doing with your milk?" She couldn't really ask that about the syrup, what with the maple rain.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" was the question asked with the evil sort of grin she usually reserved for scandalizing the boys.

Katchoo, not in front of Baby Whatshername.

Francine had two options here and the sad part was where she weighed them over in her mind. One: go the old, safe Francine Peters route of giggling, saying 'eww!' and hitting Katchoo over the head with a pillow. Two: ............................ Try not to be a wuss.

"I would think syrup would be more fun."

"Oh, you think, do you?" Katchoo drawled. Oh, so what if this was getting recorded? This was kind of a momentous occasion. It ought to be immortalized in some form.

Ideally not for class, but who was being picky here?

"Well, it tastes better. Not that I don't like milk, but..."

Francine, you need to work on your dirty talk.

Or maybe not because OMFG BABY WHATSHERNAME.

Sadly, the sudden moment of flail came only from Don't talk vaguely dirty in front of the fake baby + OMFG I'm talking vaguely dirty to KATCHOO; she'd utterly forgotten about the recording devices.

. . .

. . .

. . . . . . .

That sudden moment of flail was brought to you by OMFG Francine's talking vaguely dirty to me + OMFG in front of the fake baby + OMFG SDLK:FJOSPIDUF THE FAKE BABY HAS RECORDING DEVICES.

"Okay, I think I can fill in the blanks just fine from here myself!"

. . . oh, god. Not the best phrasing there either.

If Francine didn't know that her heart line was longer than her head line from the amount of facepalming she'd done in her life already, well, she was getting a refresher course now.

"I mean... because you know, it...um... right. Blanks, um. Filled."

Maiden voyage of the USS Not A Wuss: iceberg sighted off the starboard bow.

She'll never let go, Francine. She'll never let go.

She was also saying absolutely nothing about unfilled blank anything, okay?

Except maybe the unfilled blank space in Baby Whatshername's mouth, now, since Katchoo had gone and dropped the bottle. "Crap crap crap crap where'd it go?" And was she going to have to clean it now? It wasn't like it was real, but argh.

Oh look, an opportunity to dive off the bed looking for it. Then she could faceblanket instead of palming. "Uh. Here?"

No. That was not a baby bottle. It was a bottle of baby powder, which is admittedly close, but...

"Francie! Trying to feed the kid here, not change its diapers!" Yelping, not helping the crying. "Aw, geez, no, no, no, it's okay, really . . ."

Rocking the baby. This would be Katchoo, rocking the baby. And feeling oddly less silly about it than she'd thought she would.

Okay, okay, so it might help if she actually looked under the bed instead of groping blindly.

It might help if she didn't think about groping right now.

"Here you g---"

Oh. That would be Katchoo, rocking the baby. Oh.

"Yeah?" Katchoo looked up, hair hanging down in her face still because it wasn't like she ever bothered to do much with it and tying it back had been more than she cared to do tonight. "Shh," she added to the baby, still rocking.

"Francie?"

"Here you go," she said slowly, holding out the toy bottle and just... looking.

"Hey, it's okay," Katchoo soothed Baby Whatshername, carefully wiping the bottle off on her sleeve (it was clean, it'd have to do) before offering it to her again. "See? It's fine."

She paused to look curiously at Francine again, which meant there was a whole lot of looking going on.

Yup. Looking. Lotsa that. Some smiling too, maybe a little, there.

"What?" It was nearly a whisper, mostly in the interest of not disturbing the baby, but also sheer curiosity.

But there was smiling from this end too.

"Nothing." Something. "I just kinda love you some."

Katchoo would have leaned over and kissed her, if it wouldn't result in baby-smooshing. "Love you lots, Francie."

"Okay, maybe lots," Francine allowed, pushing off the floor to come sit beside her again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Room 505, Sunday Night

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject