Room 505, Wednesday Evening
Katchoo plugged her phone in to charge as soon as she -- Clocky trailing out of kicking range behind her -- got back to her room after work, then headed for the shower. Upon returning to the room, she tossed her towel onto the floor, changed into a pair of sweatpants and paused in front of her closet mirror, staring at her unfamiliar (except for that one day last year) reflection. And the lily-shaped tattoo on her chest, over her heart -- the one that now had an on-island twin in the burn scar Francine had come home with from her trip to Firekeeper's world.
Layers on layers of evasion and lies, now. Francine had no idea why she'd freaked out so much upon seeing that scar, or why she'd taken off to Toronto unexpectedly over the summer, or what had gone down in that jail cell in Baltimore last week. What had gone on in the two intervening years that had passed for her between running away from Houston and coming to Fandom, things that Arthur and Merlin now both had more of a clue about than her own best friend. And now Katchoo was wondering how much Ino might have pieced together, too.
God, she felt tired. Still staring at her reflection, Katchoo tried to trace back through everything to see if there was even a good starting point to ease into the story. (The beginning, maybe, you dumbass.) It was far too easy to get lost in thought this way, and the thoughts weren't, for the most part, fun.
[OOC: For the roomie. Specifics of convo NFB, please?5]
Layers on layers of evasion and lies, now. Francine had no idea why she'd freaked out so much upon seeing that scar, or why she'd taken off to Toronto unexpectedly over the summer, or what had gone down in that jail cell in Baltimore last week. What had gone on in the two intervening years that had passed for her between running away from Houston and coming to Fandom, things that Arthur and Merlin now both had more of a clue about than her own best friend. And now Katchoo was wondering how much Ino might have pieced together, too.
God, she felt tired. Still staring at her reflection, Katchoo tried to trace back through everything to see if there was even a good starting point to ease into the story. (The beginning, maybe, you dumbass.) It was far too easy to get lost in thought this way, and the thoughts weren't, for the most part, fun.
[OOC: For the roomie. Specifics of convo NFB, please?5]