Room 505, Sunday Night

[thatsamilkshake]

This was stupid and Francine shouldn't be here; she should hole up in Momoko's room until this weekend thing wore off and she woke up back where she was supposed to be. But here she was.

Francine hadn't been here since yesterday morning. Francine hadn't been to the version of here she used to call hers since the sun had come out in Greenland

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[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo had . . . pretty much not left the room all weekend after that, no, and the fact that it took several long, shuffling minutes for her to get to the door and open it might have indicated as much, though possibly not as clearly as the fact that, honestly, she looked like shit when she opened it.

But in a very human way, at least?

"Fr --" She coughed, in a way that the waft of stale smoke from the open doorway would explain too fragrantly well. "Francine."

[thatsamilkshake]

Yup. Possibly the dumbest thing she'd done in her life, and she'd done a lot of those. At the very least, the dumbest thing she'd done since turning around to look at Katchoo yesterday morning, before running out the door.

"You look like shit." Just in case she missed the streaks on the wrong side of the face and the fact that there were two, and might still think this was her Francine.

Just in case any of the other things slipped out that were pushing at the back of Francine's teeth like she'd swallowed live eels for breakfast.

[thismaskiwear]

"And you talk like me." No, that about covered everything the streaks that were all wrong for her Francine didn't. Katchoo ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair, sizing her up.

"Which means there's a story there."

[thatsamilkshake]

Like shit was as technically accurate as you could get. Like you used to was one of the eels. Like my girl was a particularly sharp-toothed, electrified one.

"Somebody had to. You weren't around to do it anymore." Two seconds. Two seconds from turning on her heel and running.