Room 505, Monday Early Evening
No word from Francine yet, and none of Katchoo's calls were going through; it was amazing she hadn't smashed her phone against the wall in a fit of panicked frustration after the -- she didn't even know how the hell many now times she'd tried to dial Francine's number only to get an "out of service area" message.
She'd left the room a few hours ago, just long enough to buy a carton of cigarettes that she'd already reduced by a pack and a half, and hadn't noticed if the door was left ajar behind her when she came back and slumped onto the disaster area that was the floor beside her bed.
"Dammit, Francie," she muttered, knees tucked up to her chest, barely rocking back and forth, the cigarette in her hand slowly turning into a long, precarious stick of ash. "Where the hell are you?"
[OOC: Expecting one (not that one), but open beforehand if you want to poke the Happy Fun Freaked-Out Chewieball.]
She'd left the room a few hours ago, just long enough to buy a carton of cigarettes that she'd already reduced by a pack and a half, and hadn't noticed if the door was left ajar behind her when she came back and slumped onto the disaster area that was the floor beside her bed.
"Dammit, Francie," she muttered, knees tucked up to her chest, barely rocking back and forth, the cigarette in her hand slowly turning into a long, precarious stick of ash. "Where the hell are you?"
[OOC: Expecting one (not that one), but open beforehand if you want to poke the Happy Fun Freaked-Out Chewieball.]