bigdamndestiny | Room 511, Friday Night, After the Dance

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Room 511, Friday Night, After the Dance

With Francine on his arm still, Merlin was doing the terribly noble thing and escorting her back to her room after the dance was all over and done with. He was more giggly than normal over... something or other, but he hadn't thought anything of it.

Since all he'd had was that punch, after all. No wine, no ale...

Merlin put a finger to his lips, trying to shush her before they drew the attention of anyone around. It wasn't working so far.

[[OOC: For the gal with him!]]

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"RIGHT! SHHHHHHHH!" Francine said loudly, as she opened the door and peeked around the corner.

Merlin looked over her shoulder in case there was something there. Something dangerous. "Be careful!"

"I AM! I DUNWANNA WAKE UP ALICE!" she whispered. For some value of that verb.

Which would probably have been an issue given how the door swung open under her weight and Francine stumbled giggling into the room, if Alice had actually been there.

Merlin snickered, falling along with her before catching himself. "You'll wake he--oh! She's not here," He said, like this was a huge secret. "Do you think she's with Lord Leeeeto?"

"Probbbbbbbably." Which necessitated standing still. Well, really moving necessitated standing still, so the room would stop being swirly. "Wait, isn't he Arthur's roommate?"

"He's a tosser," Merlin said, making a face and trying his best to help her stand without moving. Or maybe to make sure he wasn't moving.

"What does he toss?" Francine asked, peering around as if she was going to find Alice hiding behind a potted plant. Or at least Dinah, but there was no sign of her either. "And hey, what's a tart?"

What? There was a connection. They were both weird-kinda-English-people words.

"A tosser is--" Merlin made a vague and rather obvious hand motion. "An' a tart is a woman of loose morals. But I yelled at him about that, so he should be nice to you instead of a whiny prat."

He was far too informative when drunk. There was a reason he didn't normally indulge.

Edited 2009-02-14 05:37 (UTC)

Francine only tilted her head at the obvious hand motion. From that skewed position, she said. "I thought it was about baking." Then, "HEY!" Then the rest of it filtered through. "Oh. I yelled at Emmett too but I think he's gonna keep being a meaniehead. He says it's 'cause he likes you."

"He said that," Merlin replied, nodding seriously. "He's not bad. I think he just misses his brothers."

Poor, poor Emmett. Merlin should go cheer him up now. Later. Something.

"'m rather sure he's just that sort. Like Arthur."

"Arthur misses his brothers?" Look, she's got a unique method of conversational comprehension at the best of times.

"No, he's an arse about showing his friends he cares," Merlin said, waving his hand about before finally resting it on her shoulder.

"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh," Francine said, following the motion of Merlin's hand rather like a cat with laser pointer, until it landed.

"But I--" Merlin lost track of what he was going to say for a moment. It was a very sparkly dress. "--you look very pretty in that," He mumbled, looking away quickly.

"You do too!" she said, beaming. "...But not in this. You're not in this."

Edited 2009-02-14 06:00 (UTC)

"I wouldn't have the--" He waved his hands toward her chest. "--for it."

...smoooooth, Merlin.

Edited 2009-02-14 06:01 (UTC)

"You never know. You could wake up as a girl." She didn't mean tomorrow, but she also didn't think to specify. "It happens."

Merlin peered down at his own chest. "I don't think I'd get much of anything as a girl."

Well, not compared to her.

Francine tried to picture it, got as far as mentally putting Merlin as he was into this dress, and shook her head to clear it of that image. Which made her a little dizzy but it was kind of hard to notice at this point. "I like you better as a boy."

"I like me better as a boy too," Merlin agreed, wobbling a bit as he tried to step back from crowding her. "And young. And not an absolute nutter."

"I like those too," Francine agreed. "You should sit down. Before you fall down." Like she could talk.

"Like you're one to talk," Merlin said with a grin. He had no idea why he was grinning, but there he was. "You sit first, m'lady."

He could be charming! See?

"But what if there's cookies on the bed? How are you gonna pr'tect me if I sit on them first?"

Which didn't stop her from taking a couple of tottery steps and bouncing down on any invisible cookies that happened to be lying on her bed.

Merlin gallantly took a seat on her bed, taking great care to make certain there were no cookies laying in wait to pounce on her. "You're safe, m'lady," He said, flopping back a bit.

"My hero!" said she, clapping a hand to...well, there wasn't much between her hand and skin, which made an interesting sound. "...They really are kind of out there, aren't they."

Someday, when she was sober, she was going to be glad she couldn't remember half of what she said when that wasn't the case.

Merlin just ~~giggled~~ snickered, offering her a hand to the bed. "They're very nice."

"Thank you." The daintiness of the reply was a little undercut by the giant yawn. "Not that I did much about it. They came that way."

"Still lovely," He insisted, closing his eyes and answering her yawn with one of his own.

The translation of "Mmmphmrrrm..." may be left as an exercise in postmodern literary theory for the reader. It might just mean noises made in the process of kicking one's totally impractical shoes off and snuggling into a more comfortable position, but really, who knows?

Merlin shifted as best he could to accommodate the comfort, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and closing his eyes. "'re nice," He mumbled halfheartedly.

The only sound in response to that was breathing that could in no way be described as snoring because that would be unladylike.

Merlin cracked one eye open to look at her for that. He yawned once more and waved his hand at the bed across the way to pull a blanket over them both. It was cold still, after all.

Another wave of his hand and flash of gold in his eyes and the door was firmly shut and light off. Magic when drunk was surprisingly easy.

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Room 511, Friday Night, After the Dance

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