thatsamilkshake | Francine and Katchoo's Dorm Room, St. Louis: Saturday Afternoon

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Francine and Katchoo's Dorm Room, St. Louis: Saturday Afternoon

Leftover pizza made a great breakfast even when you were five, and Saturday morning cartoons were a pretty good distraction from the impending arrival of lunchtime, but it did finally catch up.

"I'm hungry." Let's see just how waiflike Francine could make herself look, shall we? "I want ice cream!"

_
[OOC: For the girl and an eventual bewildered guest, but open for calls set before he arrives, too.]

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Francine put the tiny little strap to her coin purse over her shoulder like a big person would and headed for the door. "What if somebody sees? There might be boys out there!"

"Boys are wimps, Francie. They'll run away." Katchoo didn't quite have the vocabulary to articulate they can't handle this yet.

"They better 'cause I'm not sharin' my ice cream with them." She totally, totally would, and they both knew it.

"LOOK OUT ICE CREAM HERE WE COME!" Francine stood up on tiptoe and threw the door open wide.

Right into the boy that was standing outside it.

"OOF!"

That wasn't what David had intended to say, but he hadn't been expecting to get hit with a door.

Or be talking to a five year old.

Which was just proof that he hadn't been hanging around Katchoo long enough, all things considered.

"David! What are you doing here?" demanded the tiny scowly five-almost-six-year-old who . . .

Who else glared like that, honestly?

Francine looked up at the stranger, then back over at Katchoo. "That's David? You're gonna marry HIM?"

Oh sure, bring that up for the first time since they'd left Fandom now, why don't you, Francine?

"I...um... what??" David, for his part, tried to peer around the little girl in the doorway to see if Katchoo was there. Or...anything resembling a grown-up.

"WHAT EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW FRANCIE, NO!"

The management would like to apologize to David Qin's poor brain, as well as to the desk chair that Katchoo didn't quite manage to topple over in her moment of reflexive horror at boy-cooties.

~~As if anything the management could do to David Qin's poor brain would top what the Cartoonist did to it? Pfft.~~

"You said." Francine didn't know exactly why she was deeply annoyed by that fact, or why she felt the need to express that by crossing her arms and staring suspiciously at the tall person in the doorway. "You said you're gonna maaaarry him and go live in Haweewee."

Not...quite.

Oh...dear. Whatever he'd just walked into the middle of, David had the sinking feeling that backing right out of it would be easier said than done. "I think you've got the wrong guy, sweetheart," he said to the one with the brown pigtails. "I'm just looking for your..."

Uh. He knew damned well Katchoo didn't have any kids, and neither did her roommate. "Katina?" he settled on, awkward as awkward could possibly be.

~~. . . this is very, very true. The Cartoonist wins by default. Default of evil.~~

"Who else, Einstein?" Katchoo crossed her arms and tapped one sock-clad (if by "clad" you were generous enough to count "half-pulled-off") foot impatiently at him. "What'd I tell you 'bout boys, Francie?"

Um, which time? Katchoo said a lot of things about boys.

For someone who wasn't interested in them.

"Uhhhh.... they're wimps?" That was the most recent one, anyway.

"Hey, now..."

Why? Why was he arguing with tiny children? And why were there tiny children in what the student directory assured him was Katina's room?

Yes, yes, she was really opinionated on a subject she didn't seem to care for, and as far as how much sense that made -- take that one up with the Cartoonist.

"Good, you remembered." Katchoo gave Francine an approving look, then glanced David's way and actually gave a loud, disapproving *sniff*. Yes, complete with practically-audible asterisks and everything. "When it comes to all that stuff, David's their king. Right, King David?"

No, she wasn't much nicer as a small child. Please.

"That's silly. He can't be king. Arthur's gonna be king!" Francine gave Katchoo an eyeroll before stomping up to David and looking him in the ...shins. At least until he looked down at her. "You can't be king and you can't marry Katchoo 'cause she's mine. ...Wanna take us for ice cream?"

What? They needed a grownup for holding hands to cross the street!

There was not enough facepalm in the world.

"I don't--" Qin, it's not Christian to lie to tiny children. You had china patterns picked out from the moment you met her. "I don't think I should be taking you anyplace without your parents' permission. I don't even know who you are."

"DAVID DON'T BE EXTRA DUMB!" Katchoo was set on ice cream now, David; did you really want to stonewall on that? "'S MEEEEEEEE 'MEMBER I YELLED AT YOU INNA GALLERY AN' THEN WE WENT FOR COFFEE?"

"You had COFFEE with him?"

Feel lucky you were getting this reaction as a kid, Katchoo, followed as it was by, "Eww, coffee. Yuck."

"I had coffee with Katina," David insisted, trying not to be extra dumb, but really. Tiny children. "Is she... supposed to be babysitting you two?"

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NO DAVID NO. WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND.

"He followed me like a puppy," Katchoo complained to Francine, in a tone that used puppy not at all unlike something that stuck to my shoe euuuuuuugh. "A puppy who doesn't know -- I DON'T BABYSIT!"

Sit down on the floor, cross her arms, and glare, yes, but that didn't count under the term, did it?

"Chewieeeee, we can't get ice cream if you don't get up!"

Priorities, Katina!

"And also put some pants on."

What. Why was he even. God only knew. Someone had to be responsible for them.

His methods were going to go over so well.

"Pants are stupid," Katchoo declared from her spot on the floor. Ice cream wasn't winning over contradicting David just because she could, sadly.

She had priorities too, Francine, see?

"No pants, no ice cream."

Which meant he'd just implied he would take them for... sigh.

HE BETTER TAKE THEM FOR ICE CREAM.

And as it happened, being a pain to David was slightly less compelling than keeping Francine from making the wibble-face, so Katchoo bellowed "ICE CREEEEEEEEEEEEEEAM!" and got up to go find pants. They were covered in fingerpaint smudges and had a huge rip in the left knee, but everybody could just deal, okay? DEAL.

. . . actually, that abrupt reversal counted as being a pain too, huh? Yay, two figurative birds.

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