thatsamilkshake: (umbrella)
After six long days of no classes, when's the best time to be perched on the open windowsill, swinging your bare legs and waiting up for your roommate who is also your girlfriend to get back to the room, while clad in a raincoat and a grin that keeps trying for seductive and ends up dorky? Monday night, right.

Hey, it wasn't like she had early classes.

[For the tiny blonde with issues. No, the other o-- no, the other one.]
thatsamilkshake: (toast - no not that kind)
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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Francine Peters

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