Third Rock Comics, Ickibar Space Station, Saturday Late Afternoon Fandom Time

[thismaskiwear]

This layover had been inconvenient at best, infuriating at worst, until Katchoo felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She let the call ring through to voicemail, too busy arguing with the cosplay freak who'd gotten up in her face (or more precisely, whose face she'd gotten up into) to derail her yelling just yet.

When she finally listened to the

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[thatsamilkshake]

Francine would be staring blankly down at her own chest. "That's the saddest compliment I've ever gotten."

[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo couldn't stop turning her phone over in her hands (in part because in this outfit, getting it back into her pocket was too much work). "Points to her for managing to work that one in there, under the circumstances."

A sardonic snort. "Least she was pretty mellow at the time. Christ!" Katchoo wasn't mellow; if she was, she wouldn't have kicked that giant barrel of polyhedral dice so hard a few d4s fell out to scatter on the floor like random-number caltrops of doom. "I hate this, Francie."

[thatsamilkshake]

"Me too." Francine plucked at the laces to her leather...top...thing... which was probably not a great idea if she didn't want Katchoo to have to install yet more mousetraps. "It's... at least I didn't have to hear my dad disappear. Claire, she, she saw it coming. So did Priestly. What if he did too?"

[thismaskiwear]

"And everyone back home, now." Did you expect Katchoo to be optimistic about this? "Half the frikkin' country was gone by the time we left -- maybe half the world."

She hissed out a long breath through her teeth. "Hard to ask, now."