Francine Peters

Francine hadn't woken up this morning in a very different condition than she'd gone to sleep on Sunday night: she was still crouched on the floor of her closet, hiding naked under a pile of clothes, and vowing never to come out again unless somebody verified that there was absolutely no way of getting pizza delivered. The only real difference was she no longer had anything against dancing or dogs and cats living together.

Well, at least she could fix the nudity issue. (Waaaaaah, no she couldn't. Not this weekend's nudity issue. But she could put on clothes now.) And then she could... Spend all of Fall Break in the closet? Aside from the pizza problem, that actually sounded pretty good. But crap. Homework. She could run out and grab that and drag it back into the closet though, right?

Right. If it wasn't in her locker still. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap. A few minutes of squinting hard confirmed that she hadn't suddenly developed the ability to teleport, so she'd have to leave. Which could prove a problem what with NEVER WANTING ANYBODY TO LOOK AT HER AGAIN.

It was then that Francine thought of the cunningest plan to ever cunning its way out of this sentence without sounding dirty to anybody not Francine. She'd go in disguise!

Ten minutes later, clad in a long black hooded raincoat and a stocking mask created from the panty-hose she'd worn to Homecoming, since they already had three runs in the left leg anyway, Francine was tiptoe-ing out the door and slithering down the hallway, heading for the school building.

[OOC: So very very very estaaaaablishy.]