thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Friday Evening

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Room 505, Friday Evening

As she'd told Arthur at mass this morning, there was 'food and stuff.' Food was not exactly a full Christmas dinner, but Francine had managed pot roast and veggies, more Christmas cookies than ought to be legal, not a piece of fruitcake in sight. Stuff...was eggnog. With a weetiny bit more rum in it than was strictly legal too.

The door to 505 was wide open, and the music was not Feliz Navidad, which is really all anyone cares about, right?

[OOC: Open like an open thing.]

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"I dunno. I'd have to test." If Katchoo had done it, Francine would sputter at her and say eww, but. Do as I say, not as I do. She licked Katchoo's forehead.

"...not very cakey."

Katchoo came up with about three dozen different retorts for that, but the one that came out of her mouth instead was the not-very-witty-but-entirely true:

"I love you, goofball."

"Good, because I don't just fly off to the Caribbean with every girl I meet, you know."

"Better not." Leaving out the part where Katchoo knew perfectly well it was halfway a miracle that Francine would fly off to the Caribbean with her, much less any other girl, of course. "I shouldn't rub this in people's faces, huh?"

"I'm not sure there's anybody left to rub." She could have put that better. "Seems like almost everyone went home."

"Yeah, but think about the part where we show up afterward all tanned and relaxed and wow, you really coulda phrased that better." Because Katchoo couldn't not point that out. "Nobody else around here I wanna rub."

Cough. "I can't imagine we're the only people going off to someplace warm. Chuck's probably in Bermuda or something." ...Not quite, Francine.

That was Katchoo's way of illustrating how you could have phrased that better, see, Francine?

"Oh, sure, bring him into this," she grumbled.

"He's not in this; he's in Bermuda." No, he's not. "And we're gonna be in Cur...uh..... Cure-a-cow?"

"Curacao," Katchoo corrected absently ~~without the IPA notation that was a serious temptation for a second~~. "God, Arthur, I swear. Hope you didn't pack the bathing suits under the bed or anything, Francie."

"Weirdo. They're in my my drawer. Well, mine are."

"Mine are . . ." Uh. "Somewhere in this room. I think. Maybe."

Which could be hanging from the cord of the lamp in her closet, or jammed between her desk and the wall, or under a canvas somewhere, but . . .

"We'll find them." Moment of bravery, moment of bravery... "Or just make sure to hit the beach in the middle of the night."

Katchoo's eyebrow to mission control, we have liftoff in 3, 2, 1.

"Wow, Francie. Livin' dangerously?"

"....Maybe if they have a very, very private beach. With like... a fence around it."

"Lookin' at these accommodations?" Katchoo grinned at her. "Wouldn't rule that out."

"He's a crazyperson," Francine mentioned again. Because it bore repeating.

Always. "Yeah, but he's good to us, huh?"

"I've never been anyplace that nice that wasn't with the school." She probably didn't want to look too closely at all the amenities just yet, or she'd never stop talking about the crazyperson thing.

"First time for everything, I guess," Katchoo noted idly, and if she had a bug-eyed look on her face, she'd just looked at all the amenities. "And hell, are we ever gonna have a checklist to work on."

Francine had to wonder, and then sort of kick herself in the head for wondering, if their checklists would look the same.

Katchoo raised an eyebrow. "Breathe, Francie."

"I'm breathing! This is me breathing, see?" In, out, In, out.

"Eeeeeeeeeexcellent," Katchoo said in a bad German sort of accent. "Now the question is, can you do that and walk at the same time?"

She was just asking to get thwapped, really.

Well, far be it for Francine not to grant her request.

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thismaskiwear.livejournal.com - 2009-12-28 01:56 (UTC) - Expand

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