Katchoo could be supportive, see? And also here because clearly I hate myself.

. . . of Francine, at least, if not of the student body in general, but she'd pass that off with some creative semantic hair-splitting as counting perfectly fine under the definition. Cigarette dangling from her fingers, she was slouched against a rock a short distance away (god, Chewie, smoking in the preserve? Smokey the Bear weeps) and watching.

Francine was getting teased so hard for this later.