fandomhighdorms | Francine's Birthday Party, Sixth Floor Common Room, Thursday Late Afternoon/Evening

Katchoo had felt justified in blowing most of her last paycheck on food for this party, because this was a girl who would eat half-raw macaroni and cheese if left to her own devices and you really didn't want her cooking. It helped to have a radio cohost who ran the diner ~~and could be shamelessly self-modded~~ and had the weirdest mushy soft spot for her and Francine, so she'd been able to call in favors from Lacey, who'd supplied trays of sandwiches, salads, a couple of fancy-looking pasta dishes, and a large chocolate and raspberry mousse cake.

She'd thought setting up for the party would be a lot harder, but . . . eh, this wasn't the kind of party that you had just to see how many high-profile politicians you could get blackmail material on in one night. Simple enough. And as far as Katchoo was concerned, a hell of a lot more important.

The music for the night was a combination of Griffin Silver and the Beatles, there was extra room on the tables for food in case anyone else felt like bringing stuff, Clocky made occasional tweeting circuits of the room, and the ball pit was there for you if you needed it.

And Katchoo was even around, her usual diffident expression dialed down half a notch. The things we do for love, man.

. . . and then a bed of plastic squirt flowers sprang up in one corner of the room near the ballpit. Sigh. Happy frikkin' April Fool's.

[OOC: Up eeeeeeeeearly for SP, ~~with the caveat that thatsamilkshake will be AFK until evening EST~~ and can has a birthday girl! ~~Wait for the OCD or I'mma sic Clocky on you~~ OCD is up, party is open, huzzah and go forth and all that jazz.]

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Karla missed the grin that might have been, mostly because she was also giving the room a fond glance. "Considering how dead-set I was against leaving Glacia...I'm almost surprised how much I've come to love this place." She blushed, not wanting Katchoo to think she was a maudlin idiot. "I'll be sad when you all leave."

Sure, blindside her with a fresh dose of the realization that she was going to miss the hell out of the Camelot guys, why don't you, Karla? So no judging you for being a maudlin idiot, anyway.

Not to say you were one, but . . . the accusation wasn't going to be made, internally or otherwise.

"It's gotta happen. People come and go, high school works that way. Because high school usually sucks," Katchoo said instead, gruffly, and adopted a slightly mocking tone as she sang in her rough voice, "It's the ciiiiiiiircle of liiiiiiiiiiiife."

Okay, the sudden break into song confused Karla. Her little cultural exposure hadn't yet expanded to Disney. "We don't have high schools in Kaeleer. Well, not like this, anyway."

What, were you expecting a completely unfrustrating conversation with Katchoo or something?

"Oh, right. I keep forgetting about that." Or maybe she'd just been a cynical little dumbass out of habit. "Consider that part of the education, then."

"The singing or the stuff about high school?" Karla asked, giving Katchoo a crooked grin.

"All of the above," Katchoo said without having to stop and think about it. "You're not missing out on much for missing the typical high school experience, don't worry about that."

"I was apprenticed to the Hourglass for about four years after my parents died," Karla offered. "That was sort of like a school. There were several other young witches there and we were learning to be Black Widows. I lived with the coven, then."

Katchoo stomped down on the urge to snort reflexively; if she heard the term 'Black Widows' from someone from this world, she'd have immediately blown it off as pretentious teenage rebellion, but hi, she'd been to Briarwood in Karla's mind.

"People you had things in common with at least?" she offered diffidently. "Lemme tell you the one big difference I've noticed between Fandom and most schools in my world. People actually give a shit about each other, sometimes. Not sayin' it's perfect, but stuff like last week happens and they go out and do something about it."

Like, say, be an idiot and get knocked unconscious. Arthur. But the sentiment was applicable anyway. "Goin' into your head like we did that time. Following people home on some insane hero mission. Go hang out in the hallway of any high school in this country, you'll see packs of idiot jocks hanging out picking on the nerds because it makes 'em feel big, cheerleaders being bitches to girls who won't make the cover of Cosmo, the math club tryin' to get the hell through the hallway before they get shoved in a locker, crap like that. It's nothing like that place, where you're from, but it's still a vicious place in its own way. We got that here too, all of you people from crazy worlds or with screwed-up powers or whatever the hell. Big difference? Kids here, they don't frikkin' leave you alone."

That wasn't even a complaint; it was almost awed. Just because she didn't hang out with people didn't mean she didn't notice things.

Different kind of Black Widows!

Karla still didn't understand everything Katchoo was talking about (jocks? Cosmo?), but understood the sentiment just the same. "That's one of the reasons I do love it here," Karla said quietly. "If someone says they care for you, they don't turn away when you're asking for help."

And that brushed just a liiiittle to close to some issues she fully hadn't resolved, so she immediately smiled and teased, "Speaking of which, mind handing me some more balloons to hang?"

A tiny downward twitch of her chin was the most Katchoo would do to acknowledge that she agreed. Look, she bitched about the place affectionately, for the most part.

She grabbed a couple of balloons and tossed one up in the air, swatting at it with one hand in a crappy, crappy overhand volleyball serve. "Knock yourself out!"

Karla cheated and caught it with Craft. "It would just interrupt the party if I did," she said, laughing. "Besides, do you really want these decorations only half-hung?"

. . . a moment, if you will, for Katchoo to indulge in an immature snicker-snort. Bad Chewie.

"Francine spent her last birthday as a zombie. I'm not half-assing this," she said, and if Karla was going to cheat that way, Katchoo was going to bat several more balloons at her in a flurry. Mwahaha.

"You mean singing at Caritas?" Karla asked, frowning. And showing off just a tad by using Craft to affix the balloons to the wall, even as she was turned and talking to Katchoo.

Showoff.

"I mean," and Katchoo vented a little of her lingering resentment of that whole affair by spiking the next balloon at Karla with extra force (for all that it made it no more dangerous on account of being a balloon), "turned into one of 'em, like that. Like half the school was."

Francine's Birthday Party, Sixth Floor Common Room, Thursday Late Afternoon/Evening

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