Francine, after a shockingly
busy week, could be found where she could usually be found just before a big clothes-related event, particularly one involving boys: in the closet, in a state of complete obliviousness concerning the irony of that fact, in a continual ricochet between nervous and full of squee, and at least halfway into her
homecoming dress. With pauses for messing with her hair and deciding which earrings didn't make her look like an idiot.
[OOC: Door is open, so is post. Expecting the BFF, but open for roomies, passing gypsies, tumbleweeds, and oh yeah, dates if they so desire!]