Francine Peters

"No, Mom, she didn't kick me out of the room." Dear God, there was not enough no in the universe for this call, at this hour of the night, with this much punch still wandering through Francine's system. "I just didn't want to keep her awake; it's late. No, of course it's not too late for you to call, especially on my birthday, I didn't mean that; we're just, I mean she's just tired. No, Mom, come on, you don't have to -- is that Muffins? What's she got in her mouth? It sounds like-- A what? Where would she get a-- Oh, a rubber duck..."

She so wasn't sober awake enough to deal with this. Francine slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet under her as she curled into the corner of the couch and tried not to yawn, or worse, nod off.

Why were the pillows on these couches so darn comfy? Not helping at all.

[Estaaaaaaaablishy...]

Separation of beds? Check. Francine's bed was pushed back over to the window, and neatly made.

Mostly because it hadn't been slept in last night. The other bed? Ahahaha. Pile of rumpled blankets, pillows, and girl-in-a-slip struggling with the second pair of panty-hose this morning. Francine swore -- the Katchoo way and then the oathy way -- that one more run and she was just saying screw it and going bare-legged.

[OOC: For the girl and the Mom of Dooooom]

The end of the week is supposed to be relaxing, right? Especially after a week like Certain People had this week.

So why was Francine running around like a gremlin with its head cut off, sticking things in drawers and tucking in blanket corners and trying not to scare the crap out of Merlin and probably failing?

M is for the many things she gaaaaaaave me.....

Like above average height, a rack that won't quit, extreme neuroses and a phone call saying her flight was late and she'd come on over to the dorms after she checked into her hotel room, and yes, she remembered that Francine had a new room number and practicing her clarinet didn't bother her new roommate, did it?

Yeeeeah. Sorry, Merlin.

[OOC: For the Ears and, eventually, the Mom.]

And again with the phone! At least this time, having made some peace with recent events, Francine was just lying on her bed reading when the screen lit up with her home telephone number, not trying to hide in and/or under it.

"I'm fine, Mom," she answered without waiting for a hello. Look, she didn't ask what was wrong this time!

"...What? Why? What's wrong?" Of course something was actually wrong now. It was like a game of whack-a-mole with her mother, trying to answer with the right thing.

"You just asked me to pack a bag and get on a plane! Gee, what do you think makes me think there's something wrong? What's going on?"

"Benjamin, too? Okay, yes. I can, yes. I'll have someone let my teachers know. It shouldn't be a big deal. But why can't you tell me now?"

"No, Mom, it's okay! Don't -- what is she doing? ...How did she even get in the bathtub? No, don't answer that, go get her before she drowns. I'll...see you tomorrow, I guess. I love you too."

And then as had happened a lot recently, there was staring at the phone.
__

[OOC: Open. Francie's taking off for the same week as ComicCon BY COMPLETE COINCIDENCE so anybody who wants to know she's going without just modding having gotten a call is welcome to stop in.]

She actually hadn't hid under the covers all day, if for no other reason than the fact that burgers lived in town. Eventually, though, Francine found herself back in her alcove, the curtain only half drawn. She wasn't seeking out company, but she wasn't turning it away, either.

What she wasn't expecting was for her cell-phone to ring, and the caller ID to not show a Fandom area code.

( Cut for how moms make eeeeeverything better. On opposite day. )

Francine hung up the phone and stared at it for a bit, before leaning over the side of the bed and reaching for her emergency box of cookies. Which were totally on her no-more-brownies diet.

[Estaaaaablishy, but sure, cabinmates can stop in. Dun hate, Lainey. Here, I'll linkdrop it for you: And later, Francine got a phone call. Done!]

Francine loved her mother. Most of the time she was perfectly happy to love her mother from 1000 miles away, out of reach of the dating tips, the wardrobe critiques, and the sound of her parents fighting, except for holidays, letters, and the occasional phone call, but she did still love her mother. So, today being today, the evening found her sprawled on the bed and picking up the phone to dial long-distance to Texas.

At least yesterday had put her in a much better frame of mind for it.

[OOC: For a phone call, but open afterwards!]

"You have your boarding pass? And your passport? And your clarinet-case? And your sunblock and calamine lotion?" Marie Peters didn't stop asking questions as she poked at every area of her daughter that was remotely pokeable, which, Francine was grateful, were fairly limited by the mountain of carry-on luggage she was currently struggling beneath.

"Yes, Mom. Except for the lotion; that's already checked. No liquids on the plane, remember?"

"As if you're going to blow up a 747 with SPF 75."

( Francine buried her face in her hands... )

[NFB/NFI due to distance, OOC happily chomped.]