strangetomato | Strangetown, HWC: Chapter Twenty-Nine

Warnings: language, partial nudity, sexual situations, slapstick humour, multiple conversations about dick size

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Part One

Frances J. Worthington III had no idea what was coming to him.

He had declared that he was going to change his life, and he intended to do just that, but he had no idea exactly how much it would change, or that it would all happen by the time he was finished college.

Meeting Beau Broke had been the turning point. That much was obvious.

After their first meeting, Beau had handed him a business card and insisted that he call him up. Frances had done that. After several conversations on the phone, and some in person, Frances found himself with a new friend, and a very different sort of friend than he was used to. It was nice to have someone who he could relate to so well, but who was also different enough that he was constantly surprised.

This had happened at the same time that Tank had come around too. Frances had returned from Edie's place to find him very happy to see him, and also willing to talk about it all. He knew that Tank was still uncomfortable with his sexuality on some level, but he was willing to work on that. That meant a lot to Frances. And how could he consider Tank a friend at all if they weren't honest with each other? It was an important step.

Frances was thinking about all this as he took his shower one morning.

He had the house to himself, since Tank had an early morning class, so he took advantage of this fact.

Not even Tank was privileged enough to be witness to a post-shower Frances dance session.

Because he was Frances, it should come as no surprise that he was listening to something appropriately sombre and tasteful, and filled with sentiments of undying and unrequited love.

But that didn't mean he couldn't dance to it.

There was also some singing. It was a very good morning.

"Take me out tonight
Oh, take me anywhere, I don't care
I don't care, I don't care

Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one, da, da, da ...
Oh, I haven't got one"

"And if a double-decker bus
Crashes into us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die

And if a ten-tonne truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well, the pleasure - the privilege is mine"

"Oh, There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out
There Is A Light And It Never Goes Out..."

By this point he was singing pretty loudly, and was quite oblivious to his surroundings.

"Frances?"

Frances jumped in shock. "Aaaagghhh! Tank?!"

"Oh dear god," Tank said, covering his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to look."

"Look?" he asked, in confusion.

"Oh SHIT!"

The downside of owning such fine pima cotton bath towels was the way one could can barely feel them against the skin, and would thusly fail to notice when they weren't there anymore. His towel had fallen off when he jumped, and he scrambled to pull it back on.

"Shit - shit - I'm sorry, Tank."

"It's okay. I've gone blind already," Tank said, from behind his fingers, and an awkward smile slipped out.

Some things were far too embarrassing to be taken seriously.

Frances couldn't feel embarrassed anymore, and started to laugh in small breathy bursts. "Well, now you've seen my inheritance." Tank started laughing a little too. "I... I'll bet you thought it would be bigger."

They both nearly folded over in laughter.

"The family jewels... how completely boorish of me to be throwing them into your face like that. Where is my tact?"

"About that... I see some more of your inheritance - the actual one - made it into our driveway?"

"Oh... that." He rolled his eyes. "That was not my idea."

"Is it an early grad present?"

"Yes. Very early."

"You don't seem very excited."

"Well, can you blame me?"

"No. It's not exactly your style..." Tank tried to picture it, but couldn't. What was Worthington's style? Horse and carriage? "A lot of guys would kill for something like that, though."

"Oh, so now my life is in danger too?"

"Heh. Hardly. I'd like to see them try it."

Frances smiled. The idea of Tank being his personal body guard was a good one. "Thanks, Tank. I think I'll be okay, though."

He went about his business around the room, and then realized that Tank was still standing there, thinking about how he'd like to say something.

"Yes, Tank?"

"About that..."

"The car? You can borrow it, if you like. Be my guest."

"No, not the car... the inheritance. The money." He cracked his knuckles, absentmindedly. "What are you going to do about that?"

"There's not really anything I can do."

"Are you going to tell them?"

"I don't know... maybe. Why should I worry? I can always fall back on my... Simlish degree."

"Do you regret changing majors?" Tank smiled.

"Not really. Who needs a job, anyway?"

The doorbell rang.

And rang again. And again.

"The hell?" Tank asked. The only person he knew who would ring the doorbell like that wouldn't have bothered to ring it at all.

"Oh... right. That must be Beau."

"Who's Beau?"

"Oh, nobody. Just this guy I met. He's a freshman."

"A guy you met? A fresh... man?" Tank was getting squirmy, Frances could tell.

"Just a friend, Tank."

"Oh."

"Would you mind answering it for me? I need to put some clothes on."

"Sure."

Tank opened the door to find a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed Beau, in all his pink glory.

"Wow," he said, looking him over. "You must be Tank."

"Umm... hello."

"I'm Beau." He offered his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Tank took it.

"Yeah, Frances told me all about you. I thought he was exaggerating about the G.I. Joe meets Adonis thing, but nope - here you are."

"Heh." Tank was taken aback. "Frances... said that?"

"Well, not in as many words. I might have embellished it a little. Gave it a few pumps of the old bedazzler, you know? Like you would."

Tank blinked a couple of times.

"So where's F.J.?"

"Who?"

"F.J. You know... Frances J."

"Oh... Worthington. Right..."

"You got it, T-man. I can call you T-man, right? It's a play on He-man."

"Umm..."

"Cool."

"So where's Frances?"

"He's upstairs."

"Cool. Later, T." Beau slipped into the house, and darted up the stairs.

Frances was still tying his tie when Beau came into the room and launched himself onto the bed. "Hey hey, Frances J. Frances JULES."

"I knew I'd live to regret telling you that," Frances said, without turning around.

"Why? It's a good name. If I had a name as impressive as that I would monogram everything I owned." Beau peered into the wardobe with great interest. "Holy Simoly! How many ties do you own?!"

"Enough."

"I don't even know how to tie one... it's never come up. I've never even owned a tie. Hey, are those all made of silk, or what?"

Frances finally turned around and observed him, already flaked out on the bed like he owned the place.

"Nice shirt," he said.

"Thanks!" Beau beamed, "Yeah, Lucy made it for me. It's a silkscreen. You should come over and hang out at the Fine Arts building sometime. The art kids are pretty cool."

"Sure. Why not?"

"Okay, then let's go."

"Right now?"

"No time like the present, Fran my man."

"Actually, I have some studying I need to do."

"Sure. Well, do you mind having a study partner?

"We're not even in the same classes, Beau. Not even close."

"Well, I can just hang out. I'm way ahead on my studying anyway. Yeah, I take my books to work with me, and study on my breaks. Otherwise, I get bored. Why waste time, right?"

"Alright, then. Maybe you can help me figure out what this novel is all about."

"I would love that."

In all honesty, Beau would have loved sorting through toxic waste, as long as Frances was there too.

So that's how it went with them, and it wasn't long before Beau had convinced Frances to drop in to the art studio too.

"Oh, Lucy! Lucy goose, where are you?"

"Beau! Come in, come in."

"I brought a friend," he said, with an insider grin. "This is Frances."

"Oh, well hello, Frances. It's very nice to meet you."

"Hello, Lucy."

"Oh, and this is Buck."

"Hi, I'm Frances," he offered. Oddly enough, Frances had never officially met Buck. "I'm your brother's roommate."

Buck forced a weak smile. "Yeah, I know who you are."

"Oh..." Frances felt himself growing faint. Of course he knew. They told him everything. "About that..."

"It's okay," Buck said. "Don't worry about it."

"I don't usually... do that sort of thing."

Buck stood a little taller on his feet, feeling suddenly bolder than usual. "Right. So you just sort of accidentally threw yourself on both of my brothers."

Frances balked.

"I can see how that might happen quite often," he said, "Especially when you're not in the habit of doing that."

"I..." He felt like sinking into the floorboards.

"Well, he sure told you!" Beau jumped in, laughing. "Yeah, you might as well attempt to kiss him too, and complete the set, Frances."

"Umm, what?" Buck raised an eyebrow, as if to say "I'd like to see you try it." Frances shuffled awkwardly.

"Heh."

"Well, he's going to feel like he's chopped liver, if you leave him out, Francey."

"I have a girlfriend," Buck said.

"Like that stopped him before!" Beau roared. Frances was turning a fine shade of red.

"But really, I'm just giving him a hard time. I don't think you have any worries Buck. Yeah, not to say that you aren't attractive."

"Well... thanks."

"I'm not sure what they fed you Grunt boys growing up, but it sure as hell wasn't ugly berries."

"Beau Broke!" Lucy exclaimed, "Must you flirt with my new friend like that?"

"I can't. Help. It. I'm out of control!"

"Have you seen Buck's paintings? He's not just a pretty face, you know. He's an amazing artist too." She motioned to Buck's ever-growing series of Jill paintings.

"Oh, wow. Nicely done."

"Those are lovely," Frances agreed.

"Thank you," Buck said, with a shy smile.

"Well, check out Lucy's stuff!" Beau said, "She had a really hot model for this one, don't you think?" It was Beau, of course.

Frances felt himself growing a little flush. He did think it was rather hot, but he didn't want to say so. "It's very interesting."

"It's symbolic," Beau explained, "It's about the trials and tribulations of being flamingly gay."

"Well, there's more to it than just that," Lucy said.

"See? The arrows are supposed to be cocks." He pointed to the painting. "But if you ask me, they're a little thin."

"Nobody asked you," said Lucy.

"Well, excuse me."

"Want to get out of here? I've had enough of the fumes for one morning."

"Well, we could all go to my place and hang out. There's plenty of space," Frances said.

"Frances lives in a palace," Beau added.

"Well, that sounds like fun. I'm up for it. How about you, Buck?"

"Yeah, I've been meaning to visit Tank anyway," Buck said, "Is he home?"

"Yes, he should be," Frances said

"That's your brother, right?" Lucy turned to Buck. "He the one that lives with Frances?"

"Yeah. One of my brothers. You've seen Ripp here, around the building."

Like the devil, mentioning his name seemed to summon him forth.

As they left the studio, they saw Ripp standing in the lobby. Frances froze, and their eyes met. It was the first time they had crossed paths since that night on his couch.

"Hey look, it's Ripp," said Beau, with a smirk. Frances jabbed him in the ribs. "Ooof!"

Ripp looked like he was considering another bolt from the scene, but glanced at the stairs, and continued to wait there for Johnny, who was talking to one of their professors about rehearsal.

Beau leaned over towards Frances and spoke with a deliberate and ridiculously loud whispering voice, which Ripp could obviously hear. "I hear he makes out with GUYS sometimes."

"Leave him alone, Beau."

"Why? I think he can take it. He can dish it out, right?"

Beau waved at Ripp and blew him a kiss.

Ripp arched an eyebrow. Beau made a rude and suggestive gesture. Ripp made a rude hand gesture. Beau made a rude hand and mouth gesture.

Ripp made a rude full-body gesture.

Beau made an even ruder full-body gesture. Ripp laughed. Beau wagged his ass at him.

"You're embarrassing me, by the way," Frances informed Beau.

"Oh, come on. We're just having fun."

Johnny descended the stairs and glanced back and forth at what was now veering towards a perverse dance off.

"Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah. What did Geraldine want?"

"Nothing. Some bullshit about playing up the homoeroticism of the characters. As if people need to be hit over the head with it. I think she thinks you're my boyfriend, maybe. She was being all weirdly wink and nudge about it. Why would she...," He watched as Beau made a series of suggestive movements and waggled his eyebrows at him. "...think that?"

"She thinks everyone's gay. I don't know - she's a drama prof. She likes drama. Now let's get the fuck out of here before I have to slap a bitch."

"Whuh? What's going on?"

"Nothing. Let's just go."

Lucy and Buck walked out of the studio. Lucy smiled and waved, and Johnny waved back. Ripp nodded at his brother, who nodded back, and then he turned back to Johnny, ushering him towards the door.

"Byyy-eee, Ripp," cooed Beau, all exaggerated lisp and drawl. Frances seized him by the ear, and pinched it. "OW! The earring, the earring! Okay! Mercy, mercy!"

"Can we leave now?" asked Frances, "or do you have someone else you'd like to torment first?"

"You are a stern taskmaster, Mr. Worthington. A fierce authoritarian." He grinned. "I like it."

Frances just rolled his eyes at him, thinking it mockery.

"How do you think he'd react to your paintings, Buck?" Lucy asked. "Johnny, I mean. He seems like one of those majorly overprotective older brother types to me."

Buck gulped, audibly. "I hadn't really thought about that."

"Ooooh, can I be there when he finds out?" asked Beau.

Lucy was in the middle of telling a story. "And then she said it was intentional, and this chick who's a real pill speaks up from the back and asks her why she would want it to look like shit."

"Wow. That's terrible," Frances said.

"I know," Buck said, "Can you believe she just said it to her face like that?"

"What a dirty bitch. Who knew art was so cutthroat?" Beau said.

Tank walked down the stairs and noticed the gang of students in the living room. "Oh," he said, "Hi, Buck."

"Hi. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm alright. Listen, did you still want that photo album?"

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Yeah, it's just upstairs. I'll grab it for you." Buck got up and followed Tank, hoping to have a word or two with him.

Frances noticed some subtle glances back and forth between Beau and Lucy, and started to feel like he was a third wheel. "Does anyone want anything to drink? I'll make a run into the kitchen."

"Yes, please," Lucy said. "Just some water would be nice. I get so dried out here. I'm not used to it."

Frances quietly excused himself and went to the kitchen.

Lucy whispered to Beau. "So that was Tank? Buck's brother?"

"Yeah, that would be him."

"He's..."

"Bulky? Taciturn? Carved from fine marble like a Greek God?"

"That last one. He's just gorgeous, isn't he?"

"Uhoh. Join the club, Lucy."

"What club?"

"Well, Frances has been pining for him forever."

"Oh. Well, I can see why."

"And he has a girlfriend too."

"Oh. Well, that's too bad. Well, not too bad for him. That's great for him, and I can see why he'd already have a lady friend and all, but it's bad for me. Or, well, disappointing."

"You're rambling, honey."

"Why are all the good ones always taken?"

"Not all of them are." Beau glanced over to where Frances was gingerly placing a slice of lemon on a glass of iced tea.

Once he latched on to Frances, Beau became a regular fixture at his place, much to Tank's dismay.

"Yo, T-man! How's it hangin'? Low and lazy?"

"Hi, Beau," he sighed, "Frances is in the backyard."

"Radical, dude. Peace out."

"I know this place I used to go with Lucy's family in the city on the weekends sometimes. The roller rink. Have you ever been there?"

"No, I can't say I have."

"That's just criminal, Frances. We need to get you out there in the trenches. You need to LIVE."

"Maybe so."

"Would you go? With me? We could go out and make a day of it."

"Go out? As in out out? Is this... a date?"

"No... Yes. Well, sort of, it is. In the strictest sense of the word, but it doesn't have to be a date date." He tried to gauge Frances's reaction. "Do you want to make it a date date?"

"No no of course not!" Frances said, much too quickly. His heart was racing. "I wasn't saying that. It was just a joke."

"Oh..." Beau was obviously crestfalllen, but he tried not to let on. "Okay. Then let's do it."

Running around town with Beau really was a mind-altering experience for Frances. He saw things he'd never seen before, in places he'd been to a thousand times if at all.

Frances frequently found himself marveling at this bendy little man-boy. He was a lot to take in.

And his lust for life was nothing short of inspirational.

The old Frances might have found that draining and annoying, but the new Frances had decided to be swept up in the spirit of things and be taken along for the ride rather than shutting himself off to it, and he discovered that it was a whole lot more fun that way.

So he followed Beau's lead...

With mixed results.

"Don't worry, Fran. It happens to every-"

"ONE!"

"See?"

"I'm changing my skates," Frances announced, "The chap at the counter is crazy if he thinks I can navigate these rollerblades." Beau started to laugh. "What? What's so funny?"

"You actually called him a chap."

"Yeah? And what would you have called him?"

"I don't know... A GUY. Maybe a dude. Buddy. Just look at him. Chap seems a little fancy for someone chewing that much gum."

"Hmm, yes. Good point."

"Or is that... no way! He's actually chewing tobacco! Ewww!"

"That's just nasty."

After Beau snickered his way through an interaction with Mr. Tobacco, they got back on the rink and skated around.

Or, rather, they tried their best.

Frances was surprised to find himself having so much fun.

Beau was working himself into a lather over the nimble skating moves of his sweet darling Frances. When he wasn't tits up on the rink, that is.

All in all, it was a very good time.

"Give me your hands."

"What? Here?"

"Yeah. Who cares? None of these people know us, and it's not like I asked you to pull down your pants. What's the big deal?"

Beau extended his hands and motioned for Frances to take them, and he did. Frances tried not to let on that this thrilled him immensely. That something as simple as holding someone's hands could even excite was mildly embarrassing in itself, but that wasn't even really true. It wasn't just someone's hands. It was the fact that they were attached to Beau's body.

Taking his hands just confirmed something that he had already known in the back of his mind: he was harbouring a very serious crush on Beau. It was at that stage where it moves on from mild into epic proportions in one giant leap.

"See? Nothing bad happened at all."

Beau grinned, and Frances was suddenly aware of the millions of tiny little imperceptible messages being sent out in everything Beau did. Was he just saying that, or was there another meaning too? His head was spinning. Beau laughed. "At least I think nothing bad happened... are you okay? Frances..."

"Yeah. I'm fine."

The sound system started playing Don't Stop Believing.

"Oh, I love this song! Don't you?"

"Yeah, it's not bad."

Beau started signing. He wasn't really very good, but he made up for it with sheer conviction.

"Working hard to get my fill
Everybody wants a thrill
Payin anything to roll the dice,
Just one more time"

Frances was caught up in watching his mouth move, but soon found himself getting sucked into Beau's singalong.

"Some will win, some will lose
Some were born to sing the blues
Oh, the movie never ends
It goes on and on and on and on...

Dont stop believin
Hold on to the feelin"

"There you GO," Beau said, "Hey it's just like that movie, except we're not lesbians, we're gay."

"You mean Monster?"

"Well, not that lesbians aren't gay. You know what I mean, right? I guess I should have said fags, or something. How do you feel about fags? The word, I mean. It doesn't really bother me, but it depends on who's saying it, really. I think -"

"Wait - weren't they serial killers? That's a horrible comparison."

"Only one of them was."

"Okay, well that's much better. So which one am I? The serial killer or the clueless accomplist?"

"Which one do you want to be?" Beau grinned. "I don't mind either way. I'm flexible."

"I see."

"If you prefer one role to the other, I can work with that. I mean, I'm not that fussy, is what I mean. Not that I don't care, but I'm open to whatever. I like variety. Yeah, it's all good to me."

"Are we still talking about the movie?"

"Of course! What do you think we're talking about?" Beau winked at him.

He actually winked at him. Frances felt like he might go into cardiac arrest.

"I have a tiny penis."

Frances sprayed soda out of his mouth with a forceful blast. "Pardon?"

"Well, not tiny tiny, but it's not huge. I would call it small. Well, look at me - I'm a small guy."

"Why exactly are you telling me this?"

"I like to get it out of the way early into meeting someone."

"Why?"

"Why not? I don't know. Maybe you'll relate. Lucy liked to bitch about her supposed 'flaws' with me, so we could share our insecurities."

"Well, I'm pretty okay... with that."

"Yeah? Go on." Beau was wide-eyed, and all ears.

"Well, it's not big, but you know. It's okay."

"MmmHmm..." Beau imagined that moment where they might face off, head to head, as it were. It was always a slightly odd exchange. Both wanting to be the better of the two, yet hoping to be impressed at the same time. Either way, you were disappointed but also pleased, unless the difference was too great. Then it was just awkward.

"What?"

"What what?"

"You were smiling."

"Oh, nothing. Just thinking."

Frances arched a brow, but returned the smile.

"Want to play darts?"

"Pardon?"

"Darts. At the dart board."

"Umm, I'll not really one for darts."

"Pinball?"

"Ehhh."

"How about we go next door to the community garden and steal an apple or two?"

"Steal?"

"Well, it's not really stealing. Well, it kind of is, but it's pretty harmless. Everyone does it. It's fun."

"I can buy myself an apple."

"Trust me, Frances. They taste WAY better when you have to really work for them."

Frances had to admit that it was, in fact, the best apple he'd ever eaten.

"Well, goodnight, Frances. I had a lot of fun today." Beau hugged him, and held him a little longer than Frances had expected. "A LOT of fun."

"I did too." His voice felt weak and ineffective. There was a feeling of almost tangible electricity emanating from Beau's body. Frances sighed.

Beau took his hands.

"You know what I'm really trying to say here, right?"

"Yes."

"Well, how do you feel about me?"

Frances held tightly to Beau's hands, as much to steady himself as anything. He ran his fingers across the surface of them. They were much rougher than his own. They were working hands.

"I... like you," he said. He winced at how stupid it must have sounded, but Beau didn't seem to see anything wrong with it. He beamed. When Beau smiled, his face almost literally lit up the room. It put Frances at ease.

"Well, that's good, because I'm just crazy about you." He gave his hands a squeeze. "Sometimes you just know, and I think this is one of those times. Don't you?"

"Indeed."

In one seamless and assured move, Beau leaned forward and kissed him.

It was all slow motion and bursts of hearts and flower petals, with an overblown romantic score playing in the background, and every other romantic cliché that Frances could possibly think of. It really was all that.

It was the sort of soul-moving, earth-shaking kiss that you could only dream about.

It was the sort of kiss you see in movies, and then laugh about later, because it couldn't possibly be real.

It was that good.

Beau was the first to break the spell. "I don't mean to ruin the mood here, but I'm pretty sure the pervy old cafeteria guy is watching us."

"So let him watch."

"But I think he's planning to paint us in compromising positions and post it on some sort of 'boy's love' message board."

"Fuck it."

"Why, Frances! This is a new side of you," Beau gasped, "I like it." He smiled.

Frances returned the smile. "You're a really good kisser."

"Yeah, I know."

Beau said it, but then thought better of it. "I mean, I've been told before." He smirked, and then rolled his eyes. "Sorry. Now I just sound like an asshole, don't I?"

"It's okay. I'm not surprised. You're better than most, so why wouldn't you know it?"

"Well, I've always been a little fixated on lips. You have really nice lips, Frances."

"Umm, thanks."

"You have a nice everything, really. And you know what the best part is?"

"What?"

"You don't seem like you're even aware of how desirable you are. It's so sweet."

Frances smiled. "Well, that's partly an act I put on. I don't want to seem too full of myself."

"Is that so? Well, you really should be a bit more cocky about it, you know. You're just perfect. Yeah, a really sweet little package." Frances felt tingly all over, but was unable to say anything. "You have those lovely lips, and those thick eyelashes, and that crooked nose that's just super hot."

"My nose is weird."

"I like it."

"I like yours. And your chin." Frances felt like he was blushing, but he wasn't sure. "It's... a nice, manly chin."

Beau grinned, and moved closer. "I really liked kissing you, Frances. Can I do it again?"

"Yes. Please, do..."

If Beau Broke wanted to kiss him, Frances wasn't about to say no. He wasn't the sort of guy you turned down. Beau wasn't pushy or obnoxious, but he had a noticeable talent for getting things to go his way. He was charismatic, there was no doubt about it.

The fact that he was the world's greatest kisser didn't hurt either.

He was more than just that, though. Just as Beau had said himself. Sometimes you just knew.

Frances knew.

He had never imagined it would be that easy, but he could see their entire lives painted out before him. He imagined them as cantankerous old men, complaining about delinquent children from their front porch, and holding each other's hand. Well, maybe he would be the curmudgeon and Beau would be cheerfully rambling, and most likely senile, but they'd be happy together. Nothing was ever certain, but he knew that they could get there. If everything fell into place, this could be his future, right here. He could make it happen.

It was crazy. He barely even knew Beau, but he was sure that this was a turning point in his life. There was just a feeling in the air. He knew right there, in that moment, that he was going to be Beau's boyfriend. He also knew that he was going to tell his family about it, and he was going to tell his father exactly what he could do with his stack of simoleons if he didn't like it. Frances had found something that money could never buy.

It was the happiest, scariest, and most thrilling moment of his life.

(Continue to Chapter 29 - part 2)

Notes: My roughly biweekly updating plan is so far, so good. Can I keep it up? Only time will tell.

This drabble belongs in this part of the story somewhere too, but I didn't attempt to actually fit it in there. For one thing, I was still using Lyran's eyes when I took those pics, and there just didn't seem to be a good place. It should be included after Beau became a regular fixture at Frances's place, but before they start dating officially. The same applies to The Banana Question, which was also too random to fit in.

Sorry about the in-game camera shots mixed in with the crisper screencaps. I couldn't bear to reshoot some of them, especially the kissing scene, which I had already done several times (because I updated the eyes). In fact, I had saved after using the "first kiss" interaction, so it would have been very hard to recreate. Anyway, they do stick out a little, but c'est la vie.

The Community Garden is a modified version of this lot by aixlachaise at MTS2.

Frances is singing and dancing to There is a Light That Never Goes Out by The Smiths. It's one of my favourite songs, and I think Frances would like it too. There's a YouTube video here, if you don't know it.