Elisabeth Braddock (telekatana) wrote in age_of_miracles, @ 2008-04-04 14:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | artie, psylocke |
Thread: Artie/Psylocke
Who: Artie Maddicks and Betsy Braddock.
When: Backdated to April 2nd, 2008. Sometime in the evening.
Where: The bathroom between rooms 402 and 403, the Xavier Institute.
What: Betsy's experience with her first load of laundry did not go well. In fact, one might even argue that it went fairly terribly. Which is why, as all right-thinking women should in this situation, she abandoned the disaster area that was the laundry on the third floor and ran away to eat some ice cream instead. Artie, being the kind and adorable soul he is, somehow finds her. Or it could be because she ran away to the bathroom that they both share -- yeah, that would make it much easier to come across her.
They were all utter, utter bastards. Betsy didn't know how, and she didn't know why, but somehow one of them had planned it all this way. How was she to know what all the knobs, lever and buttons did? How could a lady be expected to know how much was too much? This had been her first time and, so far as she concerned, nobody got anything right on their first time. So there was a little mess? People would survive. The laundry room might have been out of commission for a day (or perhaps two, she conceded, with another hefty dig into the ice cream tub), but it would survive. Hell, it might even come out of the ordeal stronger, a better laundry room for all the hardship it had faced! Which was more than the impartial observer could say about Elisabeth Braddock.
She lay in the empty bath, clothed only in her underwear - not that that was saying a great deal, since she was also covered from head-to-toe in soap suds. Not your usual suds, of course: these had come from a mixture of half a bottle of gin that she had accidentally spilled into the washing machine, whilst trying to get the detergent open, and an entire bottle of the detergent itself. As such, they had all the consistency of concrete, and (it felt to her bedraggled form) approximately the same weight. Her hair hung limply across her face, which she would have tucked behind her ears had the woman not been far more concerned with getting to the bottom of her tub of iced cookie dough.
One thing was for certain: she was never going back to the laundry room.