Francine Peters

After everything that had happened in the last few weeks, Francine should probably be spending her last Saturday in Fandom wandering around the island enjoying the sights and sounds of the place as it was supposed to be, not sprawled on her bed reading Cosmo, but... air conditioning.

And Slim Your Thighs In 6 Minutes a Day.

[OOC: for a phone call, and the roomiebffgirl, of course, if she so desires. I WARN YOU NOW I AM FALLING ASLEEP, PEOPLE.]

So it turns out that punching a tree? Kinda stupid. SAM. Which was why the girl with her chin buried in the fur of a hunting hound (that she was still allowed to call a puppy because...YOUR FACE) looked like she was flipping people the bird if they walked past the half-open door. It wasn't them; it was just the splint. ...Okay, it was also the mood. But still not them.

Brynne, unsurprisingly, was very good at cuddling; Owain...tried to be? But there was a reason the owl on the bed was currently cuddling with Francine's birthday present (whose name was apparently Agravaine, according to -- well, that thought wasn't depressing, was it) instead of Francine.

Look, she wasn't letting them spend the night in the stables tonight, shut up. Also, just... shut up.

[OOC: Open but emo. Last post before Francie heads off for the backpacking trip, but probably not the last post in Fandom.]

They did not, in fact, break the bed, and thank God they'd both been too busy trying, to bother listening to the radio.

And now it was Saturday, after a long week of longness and Francine and Katchoo totally deserved a nice long lie-in of longness to match.

Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

[OOC: for kids, co-parents, and Certain Annoying Elder Gods]

Her classes for the week taken care of in one swell foop, Francine could have flopped back to bed for a nap, but that sort of thing led to a certain amount of staring at the ceiling in the kind of brood that Arthur had tried to poke her out of last week, and she couldn't exactly say he was wrong about distractions.

So she was sorting laundry while watching an early-season Bitterwoman marathon, and occasionally glancing at the chair where yesterday's purchases from DDD's were laid out (there were tags to clip off, still), wondering if she should try them on again now that she was back in her own room with the right shoes available and a door that locked.

Not that she'd locked it, or even shut it, at the moment.

[OOC: Up eeearly for an expected SP, but open is as open does!]

You'd think that after a rather excellent week and a fudge-covered weekend, Francine would be, if perhaps not raring to get up early for class tomorrow, at least in a pretty good mood.

If you hadn't seen her today. If you had, and that made you a very rare soul since she barely ventured out of her room, you'd wonder just what the heck she'd come down with that left little brown spots all over her face and hands, just too regular to be freckles.

Either that, or you'd wonder if she hadn't actually showered since the chocolate dunk tank, and someone had done a bad job of licking it off. (You'd be wrong, and also liable to get hit if you asked.)

All in all, it made for a grumpy, frustrated, itchy Francine who sprawled on the bed pretending to do her homework now.

[OOC: Sure, open. I'll be conscious for an hour or so yet.]

The pile of stuff in the middle of the room was not some mess that had accumulated during the week while the inhabitant more likely to clean had been busy either being insane or dealing with somebody else in that condition.

No, it was a radio, a CD player, a knock-off iPod and a Soothing Ocean Sounds Sleep Machine, all of which had been unplugged or de-batteried when simply turning them off wouldn't stop them from playing Feliz Navidad. In chorus. With harmonies and a descant. And the whales from the Ocean Sounds machine on bass.

And yet despite the pile of silent machines on the floor, the song could still be heard tinkling out the open door, as Francine chased something small and whirring around the room.

Beep BEEP beep beep beeeeeeeeep...

"Et tu, Clocky?!"

__
[OOC: Door and post are open!]

Not that Francine didn't always stay up to listen on Katchoo's radio nights, but after this morning, she wasn't sure she was ever going to sleep again, thanks.

Shower, on the other hand, she might do that again. But maybe not until morning. More than four in one day and you start to risk chafing.

Right now, though, she was just sitting up in bed with the lamp on and the blankets pulled up, reading about wildern Rodents of Unusual Size, and resolutely not falling asleep.

[OOC: For the bffroomiethingperson. Hey Chewie, don't broadcast this; it's after you get back!]

It wasn't that Francine had stayed up all night wondering just where the hell Katchoo was aside from 'out.'

She'd actually managed to get some sleep between three a.m. and the time she heard the door opening.

[OOC: For one, possibly two, first, but open later in the morning!]

Class had had been weird for more than one reason, but muffins had been comforting for the company as well as the taste. It was a decent balance, something Francine was grateful for, since that was in short supply for her these days.

Now, she was sitting on the windowsill, feet dangling onto her bed, just watching the stars and breathing. It seemed like a thing to do.

( That's not a linkdrop. )

[OOC: Door's open, girl is...confused.]

Despite having called again on her way back from the Gig, Francine had still been hoping somehow that she'd get back in to find a Katchoo there ready to mock her for the giant pyramid of cookie tins in the corner.

No such luck. No such Katchoo, and her cell-phone still went to voicemail. Spending the afternoon with Firekeeper and Blind Seer and the horses had taken enough edge off Francine's frustration that when she finally gave in and did leave a message, it just said, "I miss you too. Come back soon. I need to talk to you."

That done, Francine sighed and set about putting away the combined piles of trip stuff and cabin stuff, the door shut much more carefully than she usually did, because people were still a little much.

[OOC: For the yellow bird! SHUT UP IT ALWAYS SAID SUNDAY.]

For a relatively neat person (god help her in the room she was moving to) Francine Peters sure had brought/acquired/magnetically attracted a metric crapload of... well. Crap.

Which all needed to be carried down the 5th floor hallway before the picnic today.

At least there were no stairs involved?

[Primarily for EarsPratTinyBlondeWithIssues and the soon-to-be-ex-but-never-unbeloved roomie if so desired, and massive SP for four different time-zones yo - but if anyone else wants to pop in and help move, sure!]