"If you press the Up arrow it'll change the channel, you know," Francine pointed out while checking the pot of water to see if it was spaghetti-ready or not.
"... The other up arrow, sweetie." Ow. "Or you could bring it here and I'll change it for you." Sneaky way to get her to move back from rots-your-eyes distance to the tv? Yes.
If she brought it over, it was a prime opportunity to glomp Francine's shin, so Katchoo took it. Well, a one-armed glomp anyway, since the other arm, the one with the remote, was held up very helpfully.
"Francie, 'm huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuungry," Katchoo complained. You know, in case she hadn't said it enough already.
"Hitting a stupid ball." Katchoo waved one fist in a gesture that would have been vaguely obscene if it was a little more refined. "An' then people clap and 'S NOT LIKE IT'S THAT HARD."
"Aroo?" Blind Seer gave Katchoo a little puppy headtilt, but didn't move out of the way. She didn't seem intent on putting a hat on his head, so that was a step up at least.
"Then we should watch somethin' else," Tamara declared. "Bein wasteful isn't good at all."
Katchoo reached out to scruffle the fur around Blind Seer's ears 'cause PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY PUPPY! She might try to wrestle him if nobody stopped her. (Sometimes her dad pretended he was a puppy and wrestled with her.)
"But 's fun to yell at 'em," she amended. Did you want to take away her fun? Did you?
Dan shyly poked his head in the common room when he heard all the noise coming from it. His dad was going to sit him down and give him a stern talking to once he realized Dan had wandered off, but he didn't feel like being alone at the moment.
Well, he'd fit right in in this room, wouldn't he?
"We're having s'ghetti," Katchoo told him, somewhat more nicely than she'd greet a strange boy when she was five times her current age. "Wanna have some? Francine cooks real good."
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"I was!" Katchoo insisted, showing her the remote. Where she was pointing at the volume up arrow. Yeah.
Luckily it was golf and not basketball or something much louder.
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"... The other up arrow, sweetie." Ow. "Or you could bring it here and I'll change it for you." Sneaky way to get her to move back from rots-your-eyes distance to the tv? Yes.
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"Francie, 'm huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuungry," Katchoo complained. You know, in case she hadn't said it enough already.
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That was why there was now a shy little girl standing in the doorway.
"W-what's g-golf?" She asked in a soft voice.
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Mmm, strong opinions as handed down by a four-year-old.
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"W-what are t-they d-doing?"
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A bored Claudia could be dangerous.
"What're you guys doing?"
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How long did s'ghetti take, anyway? "An' yelling at the TV!" It passed the time, okay?
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"Do too," she insisted in regard to the spaghetti thing. "'s for dinner! An' the TV's there to be yelled at, so there."
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"What's a golf?" Tamara asked curiously.
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"PUPPY!" she bawled, scampering over. She liked dogs. Cats were stupid, on the other hand.
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"Then we should watch somethin' else," Tamara declared. "Bein wasteful isn't good at all."
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"But 's fun to yell at 'em," she amended. Did you want to take away her fun? Did you?
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Yes, he was a huge girl.
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"We're having s'ghetti," Katchoo told him, somewhat more nicely than she'd greet a strange boy when she was five times her current age. "Wanna have some? Francine cooks real good."
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