The year was 1947. It was raining, and the overcast and clouds gave off a dark and dreary demeanor for the day. But this wasn't out of the norm for everyone's favorite ex-pirate nation, England. He walked down the worn London street, on his way to another World Conference meeting. Thankfully, this time it was stationed in his country. The last meeting ended up being a colossal mess because it was held in New York, and America had planned for it to be more of a party then a meeting. That was all well and good, except when you mix alcohol with politics. 3 threats for war and a 5 day long hangover later, things finally calmed down. But that didn't mean Iggy had nothing to worry about. Oh no. He had just recovered from riots and uprisings just across the Celtic Sea, and is economy was getting hit quite harshly. But, he still had to attend the World meeting. Otherwise America would worry, Japan would stay home, France would try to rape somebody, and Russia would probably kill everybody. He didn't have much choice. Not to mention, today was THE day.

Upon opening the large double doors in the meeting hall, England realized he was late. Quite late. But that wasn't the weirdest part. Japan was already there, right on time as usual, as well as Germany and that strange floating bear, but there were a few extra chairs at the table. Not only were there extra chairs, but some of those chairs were filled by Belgium, Netherlands, Wales, and... Scotland. For the most part, this didn't surprise Iggy. He hadn't seen some of his siblings and friends in many years, but he knew they would be coming. It was going to be a big day, after all. Whether he liked it or not.

As everyone else arrived(namely France and Italy, who were always late), the tension in the air began to grow. It was unusually quiet, even though Italy wouldn't stop whispering to Japan from just across the table and slurping his pasta(how did he manage to get that in here?). England checked his watch and the people stationed around him, and, noticing what time it was, stood and began the meeting.

"Welcome, everyone. It's time to start the world meeting. But,-" He paused for emphasis, "Before we begin, I'd like to introduce you to someone."

"Ve~? A new country?" Italy asked innocently.

"Well, not quite Italy. Everyone, I'd like you to meet my little sister, Ireland."

As if on cue, the large double doors slammed open. A girl with bright, almost orange red hair, worn in a loose bun behind her head with a few loose curls hanging on either side of her pale, freckled face, walked in. She wore a faded black newsboy cap on her head, as well as a white shirt with a neon green clover on it, with the words 'Get Lucky' printed in gold letters. She also had on a pair of dark green army cargo combat pants with various pockets, held up by bright red suspenders. She tread on shiny black combat boots, and covering her thin shoulders was a cropped black leather jacket, left unzipped in the front. Her hands were clad in simple black leather fingerless driving gloves, and the chains on her belt loops swung and clinked as she walked. She continued walking, letting the doors swing behind her. As she waltzed right past everybody, she nodded curtly at Wales and winked at Scotland, who both smirked in return. Though, she payed no attention to England, even after he so cordially introduced her to everyone. She simply smiled mischievously and walked right past him.

She stopped behind the chairs of Prussia, France, and Spain (God only knows why the three were seated together!). All eyes were still on her, but all she said was:

"So, you're the infamous Bad Touch Trio, eh?" Her accent was thick, somewhere between British and Scottish, with a smooth feminine tone. Prussia was the first to answer.

"Yeah, vhat's it to you, liebling?" He smirked, because usually this caught women off guard or made them blush. But not Ireland.

"Well, consider yourselves a quartet." She said. She swung over an empty chair and placed it between Prussia and France, plopping herself down rather unladylike. She then proceeded to produce a dark brown bottle from her pocket, it's decorative label reading something along the lines of 'Pale Ale Beer' in her native language. She popped the cap off with ease, caught it before it flew too far, and took a big, long swig from it.

"Ya' know, I'm hungry. Anyone know where I can find some good Bangers and Mash 'round here?"

That sent the whole Trio into a fit of snickering and near hysterics, as well as a few of the other more childish and perverted countries.

"That sounds like what we did last week, no?" France snickered.

"But with more smashing than mashing!" Spain added, still grinning.

And that is how Ireland made her first impression on the collective World.