Fifth Floor Common Room, Saturday Evening

[thismaskiwear.livejournal.com]

Katchoo being shorter than Francine wasn't new; Katchoo being this much shorter than Francine was.

Also not new: Francine feeding people, where for the time being the term 'people' encompassed her tiny four-year-old roommate-slash-girlfriend, currently plunked down three feet in front of the TV and flipping through the channels because nobody wanted her anywhere near the food preparation. That remote control might get thrown sometime soon.

Why?

"STUPID GOLF! I WANNA WATCH SOMETHING ELSE!"

Because of that.

This could get messy, and that was even before the food.

[OOC: Francine modded with permission, common room is open. Beware of Chewie-flung projectiles.]

Comments

[thatsamilkshake]

Oh look. A tiny prince. Francine's utter lack of shock at both his eventual appearance and his, well, appearance could be due to having served spaghetti to kids all night, or it could be because she'd met him. You decide.

"Hi, Arthur!" Pinching his cheeks would be unforgivable, wouldn't it. "Are you hungry?"

[bitchprince]

... Well, she didn't call him Prince, but that was servantly enough.

"Will you serve my supper?" he said, like he expected it to happen. He'd been taught.

[thatsamilkshake]

"That's the idea." The spaghetti was long-done by now, but there was still plenty left staying warm on the stove. "What's your pleasure? We have everything you could possibly want as long as what you want is spaghetti and meatballs."

[bitchprince]

"That sounds foreign," said Arthur, who was doing his level best to keep his shoulders squared and his countenance proud. "I will have some."

[thatsamilkshake]

"Good choice." Francine took a plate and started dishing some up. "For your drinking pleasure, we have juice, juice, juice, and milk."

[bitchprince]

Arthur's features scrunched up. "Milk," he instructed. "Of the cow."

[thatsamilkshake]

Still unforgivable, right?

"Of the cow. Yes, your Highness. I'll have to check, though." Francine made a show of looking in the refrigerator. "We might only have milk of the aardvark left."

[bitchprince]

Arthur didn't pout, thank you. It was a manly face-pulling. "Very well," he said, "But we should have milk of the cow again."

[thatsamilkshake]

"Aardvark milk is really good, though! It's pink. Tastes kind of like strawberries."

Possibly because it was strawberry flavored Nestle in a bottle. Shh.

[bitchprince]

"And is the Aardvark a mighty beast?" Arthur inquired, because he hadn't actually heard of it before. "It mustn't be if it gives milk with strawberries."

[thatsamilkshake]

Well... "Sort of? It is to ants. Besides, it's not like the cow is a mighty beast." That'd be pink milk in a glass there, your Highness.

[bitchprince]

"It has a funny name," Arthur retorted. "Mighty beasts usually do."

He gave the milk a distrustful look, but took the glass.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Like the wild spaghetti?" Francine asked, dishing some up and offering him a plate and fork. "Fearsome."

[bitchprince]

Arthur shot her a vaguely maligned look. Was she not taking him seriously?

He did take the plate, though. "Please. Like this is anything anyone has killed," he said, poking at the spaghetti with his fork.

[thatsamilkshake]

"The meatballs were."

Yes, and now they were back at cow.

[bitchprince]

Arthur granted his food another careful look before he finally, finally rolled his fork up in it and took a big bite. It was hard, considering the noodles wouldn't stay on, but eventually he got some of it.

"It is unwielding but satisfactory," he said, with a tiny pout.

[thatsamilkshake]

Try to think of it as a challenge, Francine started to say, then wondered how many times in his life he'd been told that. "I could cut it up for you," she suggested instead.

[bitchprince]

Arthur's features hardened. "Do people normally eat it like this?" he inquired.

So that answer would be 'often enough that he doesn't need to be told anymore, Francine'.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Only if they want to," Francine answered, recognizing that look but not too sure she'd be successful at making it disappear. "My mom used to cut mine up for me." Until she got tired of her brother razzing her about it.

[bitchprince]

"But you're a girl," Arthur pointed out, and wrestled with his noodles. He'd get it down right.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Yes. Which means I'm bad at sports." Dear women everywhere: sorry. "Eating spaghetti isn't a sport. It's supposed to be fun."

[bitchprince]

"Almost everyone else is eating it without cutting," said the boy who didn't actually know anything about spaghetti. Or contemporary Italian cuisine.

[thatsamilkshake]

"Because it's fun," Francine repeated. "Not because they have to."

[bitchprince]

"But cutting makes it easier," Arthur pointed out, "You said."

[thatsamilkshake]

None of the legends Francine had ever read said the stone he had to pull a sword from was his head. "Did not." This would be so much easier if she was little too. "I just offered to do it for--" Francine Peters, future kindergarten teacher. Maybe. "Hmm. What if you cut it up yourself?"