who; Claire Redfield & Mac (& friends). where; Foster's Home for Imaginary Friends. when; Say morning of the.. uh.. thirteenth. summary; Claire wants to make sure Mac is okay. Mac doesn't get why he wouldn't be. rating; Hah. Probably PG at the most. status; In progress.
Mac had never met so many people who didn't know what imaginary friends were. It was like they'd never had one or something, and wasn't that a horrifying thought? He couldn't imagine not having Bloo around-- or the others, now that he spent so much time in and around Foster's. Still.. Miss Claire was coming, so Mac supposed he could introduce her to everyone and.. who knew? Maybe someone would get adopted. Though honestly, the eight-year-old didn't exactly understand the adoption process. There was paperwork and stuff, right? But Mr. Herriman usually handled that part of it.
Oh well. He'd write down who got adopted, when, and to who, and hopefully it would all get straightened out later.
"All right, so--" he began, hands planted on his hips and head tilted back to stare up at the friends gathered around him, "--Miss Claire is coming over, so everyone's gotta be on their best behaviour, okay?" He glanced at Bloo, trying to look stern and not sure it was coming out right. "That means you, too, okay, Bloo? I mean.. we don't wanna scare her away, right?"
"Aw, c'mon, Mac," the small friend dismissed, rolling his eyes as he tried to untangle a paddleball from around his hands, "we only did that.. maybe once! And it's not like it was our fault, anyway. Two words: Galactic. Overlord."
Fidgeting, feet scuffing at the floor, Wilt offered a brave smile as he reached down to pat Mac's messy brown hair. "It'll be okay, Mac! We'll figure this all out, and we'll find Frankie and Madame Foster, and we'll get back home. And we'll all impress Miss Claire, and nothing will go wrong, and maybe she'll adopt one of us--maybe even me!--oh, but um, but it'd be better if it was someone else first, you know, I can go last--and you're doing a really good job so far!" Mac sighed at the long-winded, over-polite ramble, mouth quirking fondly. --Wilt really was too nice for his own good.
"We'll see, I guess," he cut him off before the skinny friend could get himself twisted verbally around, reaching up on his toes to smooth down Eduardo's fur (to which he earned himself a wide, nervous smile), then turned to help Bloo untangle himself. --Honestly. If only things were always this quiet.