Room 505, Sunday Morning
Katchoo didn't even wait to get out of bed, most mornings, before the smoking started. Today wasn't any different, since today more than anything she just wanted to stay there. She'd have loved to pretend the last few days hadn't happened, but she'd hit maximum denial capacity apparently.
So, denial not an option, she lay staring up at the ceiling, not giving a damn about the ashes drifting to the floor from the cigarette dangling from her hand and severely annoyed that she did still give a damn about a couple of other things. The sketchbook she'd had on Thursday lay open on the nightstand and was now completely filled up with drawings, some of them rough renderings and others more thoroughly fleshed out and shaded, all of them looking a lot like Francine.
[OOC: Post is for sooooooomebody.]
So, denial not an option, she lay staring up at the ceiling, not giving a damn about the ashes drifting to the floor from the cigarette dangling from her hand and severely annoyed that she did still give a damn about a couple of other things. The sketchbook she'd had on Thursday lay open on the nightstand and was now completely filled up with drawings, some of them rough renderings and others more thoroughly fleshed out and shaded, all of them looking a lot like Francine.
[OOC: Post is for sooooooomebody.]