The Ruski eyed the German man maliciously, sizing him up as if he was prey to be devoured. It was a casual summit, the countries chatting amiably, unaware of the dark aura gathering beneath amethyst eyes.
"Italien, stop spraying tomato sauce on yourself, I'm sure you've got a lot to say to everyone, but now you're stuffing pasta in your face. Either talk or eat." The blonde wiped a mess of sauce away from the childish country's mouth.
The Russian smiled at this, moistening his lips. The German's voice was a husky baritone, and hearing it's resounding boom throughout the oaken room awoke curiously strong sensations within Ivan. Today in particular, the Ruski felt exceptionally hot under the collar, or scarf, rather. He only experienced such sensations when torturing his Baltic associates, having a lust for a foreign flavor such as the West was a bit atypical. Atypical, yet intriguing. So intriguing.
A loud band rudely pulled the Russian away from his inner thoughts. As usual, Germany's obnoxious brother Prussia-whom Ivan had extreme loathing for-had slammed his fist upon the elongated table, halting the deafening chatter of the countries. His face was beet red in fury, but no one could help but laugh as the furious man began to rant about his so called "Awesome power!!" while a little fuzzy chick romped through his snow white hair.
"Give it a rest, yughhghghumffff!" the equally annoying America shouted from his seat, cramming food into his mouth.
The other countries joined in, chastising the foolish East on his behavior. Ivan turned to the German, who's head was as low as possible, shaking his head in shame. No one could really blame him, his brother was making a mockery of the proud Deutschland.
Unanimously agreeing the Summit would be brought to an abrupt close, the countries rose from their chairs eagerly, chattering away once again. Everyone except for Germany and Russia. Ivan chose to rise first, adjusting his scarf as he confidently made his way over to the sulking blonde.
"Ludwig." Ivan murmured softly, resting a gloved hand on the blonde's shoulder, arising a small jump in fright from the Kraut. "Will you be alright, after Gilbert's outburst?" the Ruski cocked his head innocently, with the face of a naive child.
The German slowly made eye contact with the country looming over him, the intimidating Russian whom, with his every touch, you could swear a cruel winter crept its way into your bloodstream. His blue eyes met the man's dark, lucidly purple irises.
"As you're well aware, he's irrational. He feels unimportant here." Ludwig sighed, his hand absentmindedly toying with a Bic pen on the table. "It's my fault I suppose. He's young, arrogant, unsure of his future as a country, I've never counseled him in proper conduct. He's prone to have outbursts sometimes."
Inwardly, Ivan felt a tempting urge to have an outburst of his own. The German's voice was so authoritative, so controlling, in charge, yet had a soft, passionate side that when falling upon the Ruski's ears, roused a flaring heat below the belt.
"I just don't know if I'm making bad decisions, I've been so busy lately. I've got to watch over my impulsive brother, and then there's the Axis members, especially Italia…"
Millions of intricate cogs turned in Ivan's mind, contemplating a plan to take advantage of the currently emotionally compromised German. Given that Prussia and Italia are both hassles, he'd need a way to occupy their time, isolate them from Germany. Once alone…hmmm…
Ivan laughed aloud, inwardly praising himself for such a cunning idea.
Ludwig raised his eyebrows at Ivan, confused at the Russian's sudden bout of laughter while he was discussing his problems. Ivan excused his rudeness calmly, patted the Kraut's broad shoulder with his large hand reassuringly.
"Ludwig, send your brother and that pasta eating malchik to my military conditioning camp for awhile. They will learn important life lessons and with any luck, become mature, da?" the Communist grinned confidently.
"Ahm…" Ludwig stammered, taken aback at the suggestion. He wasn't sure a Russian discipline camp would help his brother, or the delicate Italia. Also, given that the Russian had absolutely no maturity or social skills to speak of, he doubted highly that the camp was effective anyway.
But…as improbable as it seemed to the blonde, the Russian camp did have its merits. He had fallen behind in matters concerning the welfare of himself as a country. He'd been far too occupied with the welfare of Prussia and Italy to even have a moment alone.
"Well…Ludwig, I expect a final answer tonight after dinner." Ivan resolved, smiling warmly.
"Dinner?" the German asked, absolutely lost.
"Dormitory. 8pm." Ivan nodded, leaving Ludwig in the summit room.