The Hetalia

The Norm family was just as normal a family as you could get. There was Mr Norm and Mrs Norm and their eldest daughter, Janet Norm and younger son, Danny Norm. Mere tourists in a large city, they thought they would spend some family time together in a very famous restaurant that they heard about. Their friends' had told them about it as well as the lot of extended family from either side. They even researched it on the internet, booking a four seat table on the exact day and time. Apparently it was 'special' and by special it meant 'unique'. It was called The Hetalia.

The building was large and in huge letters that were fit with bulbs that flashed Hollywood style did the name of the restaurant shine. They stood in line behind a long row of waiting people. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to half-an-hours and half-an-hour turned to an hour which ticked on halfway into the other.

"What on earth is taking so long?" said Mrs Norm, fanning herself with a small brochure from the hotel. "We've been here for a full hour."

"It's alright, honey," replied Mr Norm, "it's a really posh restaurant. There's a lot of people here. Just give it a few more minutes."

"It better be worth it," huffed Mrs Norm. "The kids are restless by now!"

On the contrary, Janet was talking on the phone while Danny listened to his music while tapping on his game console, cursing lightly whenever he lost. By the time they reached the counter, a man dressed in a snug suit smiled broadly at them.

"Welcome dudes to The Hetalia Restaurant!" he cheered, beaming at them and throwing his hands in the air, "my name is Alfred F. Jones and I'm welcoming you this evening! AHAHAHA!" The man threw his head back, his laughter echoing and booming.

The Norms flinched back, unused to such raw noise. Alfred snapped back, his smile still plastered on his face.

"So, where are you folks from?"

"We're tourists here," Mrs Norm started. "We came-"

"Tourists? Man I remember this one time I went touring in Japan and let me tell you, it was awesome!" The man beamed over the wooden stand. "I got a friend who took me to all these super awesome temples and those cute little noodle houses, man, their soba tasted so good! I was walking with him down some road and these cute girls starting giving me tissue- how whack is that? It's way better than those 'handkerchiefs' Arthur was giving me- man talk about a mouthful of a word! Who the hell even carries cotton pieces of tissue anyway? Just like that last time he tried to 'correct' my English I mean, I don't speak English I'm speaking 'American' aren't I?"

"Uhh… we have a reservation?" Mr Norm said uneasily, pushing his thick glasses up his round nose.

"Exactly what I'm talking about dude!" Alfred slammed his hand on the nearby wood, "he blew his head off last time some guy was complaining about not doing the reservations, man, it completely sucked! I bet it's all that tea that he says 'calms him down' pffft! Who even believes that? I'm a complete coffee person I tell you, mhm, coffee-person and proud! Way more of a coffee-person than that Norwegian dude who completely flipped when his stash went clear. Man, you do not wanna know what happened but since you're standing here I'm gonna tell you! AHAHAHAHA!"

Mr Norm exchanged glances with his wife who stood as uneasily as he did. This man kept talking and talking and talking and talking- with no hint of stopping. Was that why the waited so long? For some random American's unstoppable conversations?

"ALFRED!"

"Oh!" Alfred perked up once more like his favourite cartoon was now on television, "this is Arthur, the British dude I was talking about with the handkerchief, tasteless tea and temper-problems."

Said 'British dude' made his entrance, seething and glaring at the young man. Though dressed a bit more elegantly than the laidback American, his hair was a total mess that reminded Mr Norm of his daughter's delinquent, punk boyfriend- who he definitely didn't approve of- and his eyes glinted with some sort of uncontrolled menace.

"You idiot, how many bloody times have I told you not to hold of customers with you useless conversa- oh, hello and welcome to The Hetalia," the man's personality switched to pleasantries with a forced smile on his wincing face. "Please excuse my colleague, he's not exactly right in the head and can't keep his mouth shut."

"We have a reservation…"

"Yes, of course you do," Arthur pressed up his forced smile and nudged Alfred out of the way, "if you'd just give me your reservation number please."

As Arthur Kirkland typed in the reservation number, he grabbed a table number and beckoned the family to follow him. Before leaving, he grabbed Alfred from the sleeve of his shirt.

"How many times do I have to tell you to stop telling people your lifetime story?!"

"Take a chill pill, Arthur," Alfred casually smiled, "plus, you're holding up the line," he motioned to the long line of people waiting, "man, you really should take this job seriously."

Arthur felt his eye twitch slightly before he stiffly turned around, ready to lead yet another family to their seats while Alfred started his unstoppable rant on things that people couldn't even careless about. The Norms followed the young Englishman- who muttered what seemed to be curses in some other language under his breath- into the inside of the restaurant. It was large and spacious and it's interior was like a small Italian town. The walls were plastered with a large assortment of art- some earthy, some elegant and some modern- while old styled lanterns with flickering candles brought in a medieval glow. A small arch was at the side, made with heavy Viking-styled boulders, which was labeled by huge swords spelling out 'BAR'.

The chairs and tables were all filled to the brim with people chatting, laughing and enjoying themselves, taking in the knickknacks of a truly international restaurant. There was a definite mix of cultures as kanji letters were plastered at the head of the doorway to the inside kitchen while a large stove brought it the fresh scent of country-baked bread.

"Here you go," Arthur led them to a circular table by the corner, "your waiter will come shortly."

With a curt nod, the Englishman disappeared into the crowd.

"Danny," Mrs Norm pulled the game console out of the young boy's hands, "we're here to enjoy ourselves, not play silly games."

Danny reached out for his game, "but I am enjoying myself! With my game! Come on Mum, give it back!"

Suddenly a loud crash banged across the restaurant. Jumping in their seats, the Norms took a quick look to where the commotion had come from. A young waiter, his hair a tousled silvery-white, had thrown his tray of mugs on the floor in pure anger. The puffin on his head was squawking and the people he had presumably been serving were dead shocked.

"Damn stupid tourists!" hissed the waiter and he stormed away, back into the kitchens.

"All I did was tip him," the customer said profusely to anyone who'd listen, "I swear that was all I did! I just gave the guy a tip and he just threw the tray at my feet!"

Mr Norm settled back into his chair, writing a note to himself on how he shouldn't tip any waiters around here or else he'd have a tray at his head and not at his feet. He cast a look for their waiter who was supposed to at least give them the menu. But… some Asian waiter was sitting on the far side listening to music from his large beats, there was another waiter that was practically slumped on some far off table sleeping- Mr Norm's eyes widened. Was that waiter smoking pot?!

"Ciao bella," a smooth voice came from his right, "stand up and come with me, I'll take you somewhere real nice from this damn shithole."

Mr Norm felt his eyes widen to platters while his wife sat as still as stone. There was some waiter leaning on their table and boring his eyes into his daughter's who was giggling and blushing in deep red.

"Excuse me that's my daughter!" Mr Norm glared at the man.

The dark haired Italian stood up, Lovino Vargas shining on his badge, and scrutinized the table as though he had just seen the existence of the girl's family. With a patronizing snort and a muttered curse, "I only serve tables with single women," said Lovino , wrinkling his nose before he lazily walked away.

But Janet Norm swooned on her seat, leaning back and watching the Italian walk away with a dazed smile on her face.

"Janet!" Mrs Norm swatted her daughter on the arm.

"Mum, he's Italian," sighed Janet dreamily.

Mr Norm grumbled in his seat and looked over at his son who was busily tapping on his game console. He looked around the restaurant once more and waited. Five minutes turned to fifteen and fifteen soon turned to half an hour.

"Maybe we should call a waiter," Mrs Norm suggested.

"The last one had red-eyes Martha! Red eyes!" Mr Norm hissed, terrified, "he was the devil incarnate! I ain't calling another freakshow to serve my family- think of how the kids'll be traumatized!"

"I thought he was cool," Danny commented, looking up from his game for a bit, "plus his accent made him sound like Diablo-Seven in MicroSorcerer: Devil's Revenge. Can I get red eyes too?"

"You will do no such thing!" wheezed Mr Norm.

"Excuse me!" Mrs Norm called over a waiter and to Mr Norm's horror, he was a burly looking man with a stern face and a glare in his piercing blue eyes that could melt rocks.

"Kann ich Ihnen helfen?" (how may I help you)

"Yes, well, you see my family and I have been waiting for more than half an hour and no one's got us our menus yet," Mrs Norm explained, her voice a show of tears, "our initial waiter just walked off and, well, no one's come for us till now…"

"I see," Ludwig straightened, his eyes hardening, "if there is one thing I do not stand for it is unpunctuality," his voice was a low threat. "FELICIANO!"

Mr Norm felt his heart hammer in his chest. He hadn't even gotten his menu yet and it felt like he'd get a heart attack by the end of the day. As if on cue, a clueless looking Italian- who seemed to look a lot like their initial waiter albeit with lighter hair and a more dreamy expression- glided through the tables and chairs, a wide smile on his face. He flung himself on the large Germany waiter.

"Ludwig!" he cheered, "you called me to go play football, no? Let's go!"

"Stop you idiot!" Ludwig pulled the man from his collar, bringing him back to a stand. "Get the menus, you're on duty with this table. That is an order!"

"Yes sir!" Feliciano saluted.

"You are to read over the menu in a limited time of ten minutes," Ludwig ordered as he turned to the family, "then, you are to chose your meal consisting of a starter, a course and a drink. In a delegated slot of time you will eat it, the timer will start the moment your plates are on the table. It is debatable if there will be time for dessert, therefore, you will further extend your plan for the evening, is that understood?"

"Yes," Mr Norm swallowed, "sir."

"Sehr gut," Ludwig nodded sternly before he turned and marched away.

Mr Norm felt the slight stinging of a migraine.

"Wasn't he a pleasant fellow," Mrs Norm fondly looked at the German, "if only there were more of him this place would be five-star service I tell you."

Scratch that, Mr Norm felt a full blown migraine hammering his head. Danny was still on his game console and his daughter was on the phone.

"Like he was this super hot Italian and I was like, oh my god! He talked to me in Italian and told me to meet him at night! AEEEE!" she squealed excitedly and Mr Norm could heard the squeal on the other line of the phone above the hubbub of the restaurant.

"Ciao!" Feliciano returned, carrying a large stack of menus under one hand, "my name's Feliciano and I brought all your menus for you!"

He handed out a menu to each member and upon closer inspection, the Italian smelt a lot like garlic and a mixture of tomato-cream sauce and vintage perfume. Mr Norm wrinkled his nose and took a menu with a small 'thank you'. It wasn't a normal menu though… it was a state of the art electronic screen, completely light and see-through, projecting 3D images of the different foods with only a tap on their names.

"This is awesome," Danny breathed as a large meal of a juicy hamburger and creamy mashed potatoes gleamed in front of him clearly and solidly.

"All Korean merchandise!"

An energetic Asian pushed the Italian and was now standing in his post, proudly and energetically flitting around the table.

"All made in Korea, da-ze!" he exclaimed, "this restaurant's origins originated in Korea where my great, great, great, great grandfather was a shaman that predicted the greatness of this restaurant! That's where I inherited my Korean spirit!"

He pointed at an odd looking curl that actually had a face on it.

"All in Korea!" he yelled cheerfully. "Korea!" he suddenly leaned over the table, glancing at Danny's game screen, "just press a double-square circle root at the Purple Portal, it takes you past the Boss to the Altered Level."

Danny stared at the man in awe before quickly pressing at his game console, his fingers a blur.

"Uri nara Mansae!" the Korean cheered, he then looked at Mrs Norm who backed away slightly from the rowdy, wild Korean, "you breasts belong to me!"

Just before Mr Norm could grab a chair and fling it at the hyperactive Asian, a calm hand came on his shoulder.

"Like, totally sorry about our old man, he's a bit senile and doesn't know what he's talking about," this Asian, in an odd thick British accent, pulled down his beats that were pulsing crazy music, and grabbed the Korean from the collar of his shirt, "he, like, won't disturb you again, promise."

With a small peace sign, he pulled the Korean away from the table who quickly changed the topic to the greatness of K-pop and how it would beat up J-pop any day.

"I think we should leave," Mr Norm said quietly.

"Oh, it's alright Henry," Mrs Norm patted her husband on the arm, "best we just leave it be. We've already had a tough day and we've waited far too long just to go eat at some cheap junk food store. It's alright, dear, just let it be."

"We can't leave!" Janet exclaimed, "I need to get that Italian's number!"

"That guy was awesome!" Danny's eyes were wide as his stared at his screen, "he booted my level up three times and gave me twice the life-force I could ever imagine getting." He looked up to where the Korean now glomped a Chinese man, rubbing at his chest with energetic fingers screaming about breasts, with complete admiration on his face. "Wow…" Danny thought he had finally found his idol.

"I never noticed we had a ceiling up here!" Feliciano smiled from where he was splayed on the floor, "it looks real clean and pretty!"

"Oh- Danny, help the poor man up!" Mrs Norm said.

"It's alright! I do military training every day so falling down is no sweat! Ludwig even taught me how to throw a grenade!"

While Mr Norm felt a shudder of fear run through his skin, Mrs Norm frowned, "poor boy hit his head too hard."

"FELICIANO! This is no time to be taking a siesta!" Ludwig shouted from the other side of the room.

Feliciano jolted up as if electrocuted, his head snapping to either side before he landed them on Ludwig. "Hi Ludwig!" he waved ecstatically that his arm looked as if it was going to rip off. "So, did you choose what you want to eat?"

"I would like some pasta," Janet fluttered her lashes.

"Pasta!" Feliciano cheerfully exclaimed, "Perfetto! What type? We have all sorts of pasta's: we have penne, spaghetti, capellini, fendelini, fusili lunghi, fusili bucati, fettuccini, cencioni, linguini, pizzoccheri, tagliatelle, ditalini-"

"W-what's your favourite?" Janet stuttered.

The man spoke so quickly that his words seemed entwined together.

"My favourite?" Feliciano's eyes widened for the first time that day, showing clear brown eyes. "Well I have a lot of favourites! I like Ravioli di Spinaci, Spaghetti Aglio e Oglio, Fettuccini allo Scoglio, Bucatini all'Amatriciana, Farfalle al salmon- my big brother Lovino loves that one- Penne alla Bolognese-"

By the time Feliciano had finished his whole list of different pasta's and different sauces, creams and special ingredients, a full half-an-hour had gone by. Wanting to follow his new idol, Danny was skimming through the oriental food section looking for anything that was Korean while Mrs Norm wanted something low fat yet tasty but not too spicy but rather healthy and probably from the East leaving Mr Norm to indecisively look over the broad menu with nothing particular in his mind.

Being technology illiterate, he had trouble going back and forward with the stupid device and somehow ended up in a page which showed nothing but sauces. The cuisine was too broad- from casual American to earthy Spanish, from fish-filled Scandinavian to rich-tasting Arabic, from spicy Indian to cold Russian. As he watched Feliciano jogging to where the open kitchen was with the orders, he bitterly thought that another hour of his life- or maybe more judging by the bloody restaurant's knack of spontaneous randomness- would pass by uselessly.

As they waited, Mrs Norm tried to hold up a conversation with her children. Janet held it up for a few minutes before calling up her best friend to update her on 'what-the-handsome-Italians-told-me' while Danny kept on playing his game, his eyes searching for the active Korean a few times.

However, Mr Norm's aching migraine and tense nerves slowly relaxed when a pianist lifted the cover off a magnificent grand piano and played a magical tune on its keys. He was able to sit back and relax, watching as the pianist's relaxed back swayed with the music.

"Ttyl Stella," Janet said hastily, "there's a super cute guy on a piano!"

Mrs Norm muted Danny's game, her own smile turning loose and light. Mr Norm took in a deep breath, and could see the restaurant in a more positive light. He thought he could give this place another chance-

"Piyo!"

He winced. An off-key chirp cut through the music, amplified by the speakers in the walls. But the music carried on and Mr Norm relaxed once more, closing his eyes-

"Piyo!"

He flinched.

The music carried on, lightly rising to a soft crescendo before falling to a cool diminuendo-

"Piyo!"

His tenseness returned and his nerves grated. It was like a small, sharp poke in the back of his head-

"Piyo!"

"GILBERT!"

The pianist slammed his hands on the keys making a complete racquet of discordant sounds. Mr Norm almost fell off his seat before Mrs Norm grabbed onto his sleeve and pulled him upright. In a close corner, holding a microphone to a small fluff of a bird, was the red-eyed devil incarnate, laughing his head off.

"Your bird is awesome!" a little four year old exclaimed, standing on his chair as his mother worriedly tried to pull him down.

"Thank you random child!" Gilbert stood up, holding up his little chick like a trophy, "I thank you on Gilbird's-"

BANG

A frying pan- Mr Norm's eyes widened- a frying pan flew out of the air and hit the red-eyed weirdo straight in the head, knocking him backwards and sending him flying to the nearby wall. Dazed and definitely bleeding, the red-eyed waiter slumped on the ground, rubbing his aching and swelling head.

"Don't worry, he's completely fine!" a strong looking woman took a sweeping bow and the people cheered from their tables, clapping for her like a hero as she made her way through to retrieve her frying pan.

"Completely fine?" hissed Gilbert, "you cracked my skull!"

"Thank you," the woman took a bow, "you've been a wonderful audience!"

The people started clapping and a few started to hoot, but Mr Norm shifted in his seat. The Devil Incarnate's forhead was already shining blue. The woman grabbed her frying pan from the ground and brushed it with her apron. Unlike the other waiters- especially that dazed Italian who smelled like a vegetable closet- she smelled of fried pastries and mouthwatering dobos torte that reminded Mr Norm of how hungry and empty-stomached he really was. Instead of going back into the kitchens- where she came from- she walked straight to the Norm's table with a warm smile on her face.

Mrs Norm clasped her daughter's arm tightly in case she needed to run from the freakishly strong woman while Mr Norm cleared his throat not wanting to look weak in front of a woman who looked like she slew barbarians and tamed horses.

"Table nine?" she asked nicely.

"Y-yes," Mr Norm adjusted his collar. "Table nine."

She turned on her heel and clapped her hands, "come on Antonio! Get the drinks! Quickly!"

"Sorry," Antonio balanced a tray of sloshing drinks as he made his way through the tables, "I had to feed my pet bull and comfort Lovino, he was yelling about something again and he was really upset. He punched my face," he pointed to his darkened eye but, oddly, his face was still alit with a wide smile, "but nothing a little tomato paste can't clear up!"

"Hola!" he cheerfully waved at the Norms. "Sorry about the delay and all. You see the drinks guy disappeared so I had to grab the tray and run. Completely unexpected, si?"

The Norms jolted when the tray of drinks dangerously teetered backwards, ready to fall on the head of an oblivious customer, but Antonio didn't even notice, his dancing eyes taking in the joyful scene of the people around him.

"So, who ordered a lemon mint?" he tipped forward, not noticing how the drinks slammed into one another and slid to the edge.

"I-I did," Mrs Norm eyed the drinks. If they fell, her son's head was to be the victim.

"A sparkling water?"

Mr Norm motioned slightly before Antonio took the bottle from the tray, his eyes concentrating on the portrait of a tomato field that was right next to the them, and uncorked it with a small twist of his palm.

"Such a cute picture," he smiled, "look at those fresh tomatoes- one bite and you can taste the sun I tell you…"

He held out an arm with the bottle, ready to pour the fizzy water into a cup, but his eyes were still on the portrait and he seemed to be completely absentminded about what he was doing. Before the water poured onto the wood and soaked Mr Norm, he pushed out his glass under the rim of the bottle, the water sloshing a bit too fast that it stained his hand.

"Orange juice?" the Spaniard looked at them.

"Right here," Janet signaled with her hand, her eyes on her phone.

"That leaves Pepsi for the little tomato here," Antonio ruffled Danny's hair, watching as his expression grew bright right. "Aw! Just like a little tomato! Reminds me so much of when Lovino was younger and he used to sit out in the sun when we picked tomatoes for lunch! Tomate pequeño!"

"Antonio!" Elizabeta yelled from where she stood by the kitchen doors. "There's an order of paella's- you're running late! Your churros are almost burnt around the edges!"

"Si, on my way!" Antonio cheerfully, "have a good day, little tomato," with a final pinch on Danny's red cheek, he casually made his way to the inside of the kitchens, humming a little tune under his breath.

"Totally not fair how he gets all the attention," Janet muttered darkly, throwing her head into her arms.

"Well," Mrs Norm clasped her hands, "I'm going to be going to the lady's room if you don't mind."

She pushed herself off the table and set her napkin by the empty plate in front of her before brushing her skirts. She slipped her phone into her skirt pocket and hung her bag from her shoulder. Scanning the wide room for any sign, she found one near the far end corner. With a satisfied smile, she made her way through the maze of tables and chairs, skipping over the zoom of electronic cars and mobile suit toys, ducking under the large trays of oblivious waiters, swerved around the ecstatic Asian that was still screaming about breasts before finally reaching the toilets.

It was a very clean toilet, at that, filled with soaps and fragrant tissues and hand sanitizers at ever panel. After relieving herself and checking on her make-up, she turned around-

"AH!"

A young man- an unbelievable handsome young man- was standing in front of her with a sleek grin on his face. With the smell of flour and dough as well as the sharp scents of fruits, he looked like a pastry chef.

"Oh hon hon hon," the man chuckled, "did I scare you?"

"Oh no," Mrs Norm felt her face flush- oh goodness, how old was she!- "you just startled me!" she nervously chuckled.

"I truly apologize," he put an arm around her shoulders, turning her to face the mirrors, "from behind you looked like a goddess in that pearly cloak of yours I couldn't help but approach."

"Oh- well- uh- thank you," she stammered.

"Oui," the Frenchman winked, "I tell nothing but the truth to beautiful ladies that I meet."

"In the lady's room?" Mrs Norm said weakly.

The man blinked a few seconds as though she had caught him off guard or ruined the lines he prepared for a speech. But that soon disappeared to an even sleeker smile.

"Well of course," he took a step closer- so close she could see the hairs of his stubble-and his smile was a bit disturbing, "what better place is there to see women in their-"

"Mum?!"

Mrs Norm spun, her heart hammering, only to find Janet gawking at her from the doorway.

"Janet it's not what it looks like-"

Janet huffed and stomped before turning on her heel and storming out of the bathroom. Mrs Norm scampered after her, her bag swinging dangerously from her arm. The crowded restaurant made it hard to find her daughter's running head, and in a frantic search she bumped into one of the waiters. The man smiled at her- his canines long and sharp- before he moved away.

Was it her or did she feel a bit lighter?

"Janet!" her daughter running up the stairs to where the second floor of the restaurant stood and Mrs Norm made a beeline for the staircase, taking them two at a time- as fast as her heels could take her- before panting at the top. "Jan… net… it's… not… what… you… saw-" she breathed. When was the last time she exercised?

Blinking from the daze of her sprint, she now stood in front of large glass revolving doors that lead to an open-air seating under the starry skies and cool winds of the outdoors. There were some blood red umbrellas standing guard by each table in case of rain or intense sunshine and the walls surrounding the large 'balcony' were covered with sheets of green vines and leaves.

"Table for two?" a young man asked her, typing away on an iPad.

"Uh- no- I have a table downstairs-"

"So you want to change tables to the smoking floor? Just give me your table number and I'll have you transferred."

"My daughter was here-"

"Ah," the young man nodded sadly as though he understood what she meant, "I understand now."

"You do?"

"Sure," the man leaned back, "sometimes teens just want to do things completely different so they could impress their peers. It all comes back to peer pressure. That or the fact that they want to get an excessive amount of freedom that they push all the boundaries of things that affect their health."

"Uh… I don't understand," Mrs Norm blinked.

"Bahrain!" the man called.

A short little girl ran in, huge glasses settled on her little nose, with a huge book in hand.

"My guilty no-do is that I was an addict to speeding," nodded the dark haired youth, "then I started driving without looking at the screen ahead and by using both my hands to type on my phone when I stepped the pedal."

"You could crash-"

"Not really," shrugged the youth, "the police always caught up so I was safe. That or my pet camel randomly pops out just like Mission Impossible: Ghost protocol. But, the smoking business can be cleared up by Bahrain here-"

"On a statistical record, more that 65% of the youth these days have recorded their actions due to peer pressure and one of the most common action is smoking," the scholary girl said, "and smoking doesn't really have to be a cigarette, it can also be the sheesha which holds a higher amount of dangers when compared to the cigarette stick bought in your local stores."

"But I don't smoke-" Mrs Norm felt confused.

"Youth these days," the dark haired man shook his head.

Wasn't he young himself though?

"I don't understand what you're trying to tell me!"

"Still unclear?" the dark haired man blinked.

"Maybe it's very serious, Emirates," Bahrain said, "It can't be helped…"

"What's serious? My daughter-" Mrs Norm pressed.

"MUM!"

Mrs Norm saw her daughter bounding towards her, the largest smile Mrs Norm had ever seen was on her face, her cheeks glowing with the rosiest shine and her eyes gleaming with joy.

"Mum!" Janet grabbed her mother from the shoulders, "do you mind if I stay up here? There's a table I can get and there's this really awesome girl- I think I found my Soul Twin! Please- she's totally my new best friend- epic and awesome and we share the exact same views! Mum please- please-please-"

"But- but-" Mrs Norm stuttered, "uh…"

She felt completely slow and incomprehensive. What on earth was going on? Janet was bounding and jumping with how awesome this girl that she met was and how she wanted to stay up here to sit with her.

"Well… I guess you could…" that way Mr Norm wouldn't find out about the toilet incident and get the wrong view of what had truly happened.

"YAY!"

However, on the other side, an ecstatic girl was shaking a dark haired man, his hair in a distinct cobra style, from the collar of his shirt in a fashion that mimicked Janet's a few seconds a go.

"Please! Please- let me go sit with that girl! I totally find my chick Soul Friend and it's a total must that I see her- please! I'm so epic bored from all the waiting and the serving and the doing and the brushing and I really need a break- please-please- please-please-"

The cobra-haired boy was merely scanning through his smart phone, flicking his thumb to scroll up the pages with a glazed, bored look on his face, giving her no notice that he was listening.

"Table thirty and forty eight require desert," the man drawled.

"YOU'RE TERRIBLE!" bawled the girl, melodramatically pushing the man away as she stormed into the kitchens, grabbing her apron- I HEART Q8- from where Emirates held it out for her.

Janet looked on miserably as the girl disappeared behind the swinging doors- that now echoed with the clanging of pots, pans and curses- and took out her phone were a single message blinked on the screen.

Sorry. Cant sit wit u. totes unfair. Meet up l8er, k? :(

"Never mind, Mum," Janet said glumly, pocketing her phone, "she was forced to cancel."

"If you'd like, you can take the day tomorrow to…"

But Janet already walked past her down the steps, her head bowed and her arms limp with the stature of a person who had lost all hope in life. "I can't get a single guy to look at me and now I can't sit with my best friend, stupid life."

Mrs Norm quietly followed her daughter, taking her normal seat at the table and shifted from the suspicious glance her son was giving her.

"What took you so long?" Mr Norm asked.

"Oh nothing," Mrs Norm rummaged her pocket for her phone to keep herself occupied, "just- where's my phone?"

She looked up in horror at her husband before standing up and digging her hands through her pockets. Nothing. She dug into her bag, pushing all the junk aside trying to find it- but no use. Even her wallet was gone- and the spare bit of change in the side pockets- the gum in the zip bag and her hand sanitizer. All gone.

"I've been robbed!" Mrs Norm exclaimed hysterically, "someone- someone went through my bag- it's all gone!" Even her vintage perfume was missing. "Henry- Henry it's all gone-"

Mr Norm pushed his wife gently into the chair to settle her down, "give your mother some water- I'll talk to one of the guys in charge."

He had to stay calm- had to keep his cool in front of his children and wife. If he panicked like Martha, then everything would blow out of proportion and they'd never get anything solved. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and adjusted the belt that dug into his round belly. A few waiters whizzed by, completely ignorant, before he reached the one person he had been hoping to find.

"WANKER! Get back in that kitchen before I slice your paycheck downsize- oh, hello good sir, is there anything I can help you with?"

"It's- it's my wife you see," Mr Norm swallowed down the hysteria in his throat. "Her bag was run through- everything gone-"

"Oh," Arthur pursed his lips with a bored expression, "is that all?"

"Stolen," Mr Norm spluttered. "Everything was stolen- her credit cards, her money, her ID-"

"Yes, yes, I know what stolen means- ALFRED! I BLOODY HOPE THAT'S NOT YOU SPEAKING OVER THERE!"

"-and I was totally over the bridge, jumping down and doing those cool summersaults, man was I an awesome thing to behold- but hey, I still am! AHAHAHAHA!"

"Why that insolent little-" Arthur balled his fists.

"My wife's bag- the robbery-" Mr Norm exclaimed.

"It won't disappear into thin air so hang fire," Arthur snapped. "ROMANIA!"

A dark haired youth with a smile that could kill- if he pierced those needles he called teeth into someone's neck that is- materialized by the Brit looking a bit apprehensive and shifty. Though there was a certain friendliness to his face, Mr Norm was distracted by the jingling of the thick duffle bag the Romanian carried.

"Table nine," Arthur held out his hand, "spill it all out."

"I don't have anything!" Romania insisted, his accent remind Mr Norm of the tales of Dracula. "By the maimed and the flogged, I swear it!"

Mr Norm gulped.

"And by the trixie-two-floy spell I gave you last week you better! I had to get Norway high on caffeine to lend me that spell and it wasn't pretty when he sobered up-"

Romania, a very guilty look on his friendly face, dug a slender hand into the black bag and pulled out Mrs Norm's wallet along with her perfumes, coins, bubblegum, phone, sanitizer and foot cream. Pulling out a small card from his pocket, Romania handed it to Mr Norm with a small smile.

"Mr business card," he explained, "if you need me again."

Romania
Dial: xxx-3223-2342
When a pickpocket is in need, I shall be at heed!
Est 1448

"Yes… uh… thank you," he said as he cradled all the junk from his wife's small purse- how on earth did she fit in all those things?

With a cheery wave, Romania walked off- slyly sneaking a hand into the pocket of an unnoticing tourist and pulling out a stick of chewing gum- heading to the kitchens.

AN: Give it a few days for Chapter 2! I expected this thing to just be a little one shot but it ended up much longer than I expected! Anyway, if there's any appearance you want of your favourite characters then be sure to tell me so I can write them in- and if you want longer scenes with a few characters or think I should shed more light on a few guys that I must've forgotten or simply left at a corner under the shadows and cobwebs doing them no justice.

The dark-haired youth that Mrs Norm met when she ran upstairs to catch her daughter was supposed to be the Emirates (UAE: you know, where Dubai is?) and the girl Janet befriended calling her a Soul Chick Friend (or something like that...) was Kuwait (tiny little country in the Middle East). The guy with the 'cobra-styled' hair who got yelled at by Kuwait was supposed to be Qatar (if you want any reasoning as to why his hair is styled like then don't fret to ask!).

As for pick-pockety Romania... it's the typical stereotype of Romanian's being pick-pockets so I thought I'd just make a joke out of it XD Plus, I wanted to add more character to him since I don't really know much about him other than he absentmindedly talks about freaky things and carried an impaled skewer thing with him like a wand. As for Iceland slamming his tray down when he got the tip- I heard one too many times throughout my life that you should never tip an Icelandic waiter since it's supposed to be rude. Still not sure if that's really true... either way, poor Ice XD

Anyway, read, enjoy and REVIEW :D