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]

"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?"

[bitchprince]

Arthur parsed that, and squinted down at his spaghetti. He was trying to determine whether doing so himself would be a show of weakness or not, and if not, how he should go about it. Exactly. Without damaging his pride.

[thatsamilkshake]

"How about I just leave the knife on the table there, and you can decide." A butter knife, hush. But not a plastic one. There was a fine line between not giving sharp objects to children and getting glared at if she handed him a utensil he could bend in his hands.

[bitchprince]

"That sounds reasonable," he said, at last. And took the knife. Thoughtfully.

In a tiny boy's voice, it didn't sound as proud as he was going for.

[thatsamilkshake]

Dammit, if she hugged him now, it would ruin the whole... thing.

Also he was holding a knife.

Rassenfrassen.