"Would you relax?" Katchoo demanded, mostly indulgent but with an edge of annoyed creeping in. Oh, and also paying no mind that her sudden urge to facepalm with a handful of charcoal crayon had left a streak across her forehead. "It's our dorm room, Francie. Who's going to walk in on us?
"What's wrong with you? Why would you ask that? It's like hanging a sign on the door saying here, universe, in here! I'm naked, screw with me. Chuck Bass is probably out there right now, just because you said that!"
Look, after living in Fandom, Francine felt she was not being unreasonable here. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.
"Is not nearly as warm as it looks. I think I'm coming down with the sniffles as we speak!" Or at least she could manage a real-sounding sniff, if not very snotty, after a couple of tries.
"Why would we do tha--" Francine's brows knit together and she stood up with a huff (on her suddenly-awakened feet). "Oh, very funny." Just for that, she stomped over to the door and jiggled the handle to make extra sure it was locked.
"I almost had your face!" That was not any form of innuendo, thank you, just a testament to the state of Katchoo's unfinished sketch, but if she worked quickly she could get it mostly down from memory. "Geez, Francine, what's the holdup here?"
"You don't need me to take off my robe to draw my face!" Francine pointed out as she headed back over towards the easel, which was not anything like a real answer, no.
"Nothing's wrong with the picture; she's beautiful." Francine lifted up a finger as if to trace the stylized curve of the face on the canvas, but she didn't touch it.
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Look, after living in Fandom, Francine felt she was not being unreasonable here. Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get you.
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Katchoo jabbed at the easel, hard, with her charcoal and growled, "If he is I'll rip his face off. And Clocky'll trip him first."
The long shrill whistle from somewhere by the dresser didn't need subtitles to be understood as Keep me out of this!
"Francie . . . the robe?"
That might be a little too subtle there, Chewie.
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Because really now . . .
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Especially when robes were involved. FREDDIE.
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"Aw, geez, you're right." Katchoo snapped charcoal-coated fingers. "How's about we relocate this portrait session to the auditorium, then?"
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"No, but the shadowing and the angles --" Screw the technical talk. Katchoo turned the easel to show her, instead.
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( ... )
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"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeah." Katchoo dragged the word out as she gave Francine a really odd look. "What's wrong with that?"
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