Canada looked over to where his twin was sitting – bouncing – in his seat next to him as they were nearing the end of their short ride from the airport to the hotel that France had set up for the symposium and the following world meeting he was hosting. The symposium wasn't exactly anything as large as the actual 'summits' that were internationally held for various topics and so it had a shorter guest list than the one for the upcoming world meeting.
Matthew calmly breathed in through his nose to try and ease the buildup of tension letting his brother drive usually caused. It wasn't in Arthur's country and so Alfred had felt comfortable enough to insist on driving – like he usually did whenever they carpooled, a concept that Alfred had more or less pushed on his twin when it became economical as well as 'trendy'; not that many other personifications would do so unless Ivan had managed to snag a couple of 'buddies' to join him on the car ride. Occasionally there were others that didn't mind the lack of fanfare, something Matthew had questioned his brother about that too.
Normally Alfred was all for showing off how awesome his independence, his stuff and overall attitude that was the United States of America…but the rest of the world tended to forget about how he and Matthew didn't have the same standards as the others when it came to personal space and time. Sure, Alfred and Matthew understood that personal space bubbles either widened or shrank in some countries and so weren't surprised when those countries either showed up by themselves or were stiff with one another if they happened to carpool.
But Alfred was also known for the innumerable handshakes, pats on the back, and overall friendliness that usually meant he didn't want to be alone if he could help it unless he actually needed his privacy. Hence how Matthew, being both twin, ally, and closest neighbor, ended up politely accepting the invitations/harassment from the loud and boisterous American to carpool with him even if his brother may or may not have been obnoxious with his forgetting of his twin those few – half a dozen- times at the airport…
So with the excitement of travel, Alfred had invited himself again to attend this symposium because as the hero, he had to show up for even the 'small stuff'. It didn't matter, it seemed, that the symposium was a couple days before the world meeting. Alfred was coming and bringing all the stuff he normally brought with him, including the extra suitcases of items he said were to be a gift to Francis since he was a buddy and Alfred liked to be a generous guy (for the most part).
"Al, what are you planning on doing while the symposium is going on?" Matthew asked as they drove along, tearing his gaze from the streets where he'd spotted a bakery that was making his mouth water to look at his overly excited brother. "You do realize you weren't exactly invited, right? It is a meeting for the members of the Francophonie, which last I checked, didn't include the U.S.A. either in full or as an associate member. You're not even an observer." He said, watching as Alfred only shrugged and fiddled with the radio before pulling a twizzler out of pocket to much on.
"Yeah, yeah….I'll only pop in to say hi and all that jazz." Alfred said, Matthew groaning and sitting back more in his seat. "And maybe toss out a few things here and there. I ain't a member, but I can hold my own pretty good and I know y'all love my company anyway. Ha ha ha…" Alfred continued, oblivious to his brother as usual.
"No, no. That's okay. Please don't, eh." Matthew pleaded, Alfred looking bewildered at his brother's response. Matthew hurried to think of something to say to placate his well-intentioned if nosey neighbor and brother. "You should just use this as…as…building up cultural knowledge, right?" He asked, seeing that he was rapidly losing his brother's attention and had to hurry before Alfred decided to speak right over him. "Try and see how….how many...um...bakeries are on each street for statistical analysis and then you can compare to your home and…you know…that sort of thing." He said, trailing off as he realized how weak of an excuse to keep his brother busy that sounded even to him.
"Count the bakeries?" Alfred asked slowly and disbelievingly. "You sure you're not just hungry since your bear ate the last snack? I did offer, you know." He said, Matthew sparing a look to his polar bear who was not backing him up in favor of taking a nap in the backseat.
"No, I know." Matthew rushed out, laughing nervously as he could tell he was putting his brother off with his suggestion. "I just meant, I know you like numbers….and….and what better way to try and achieve world peace than with something sweet and sugary..." He began, smiling a little as he thought of the wonderful foods that his big brother would undoubtedly have at this symposium and world meeting. "….and maybe with a little bit of maple syrup. You know, maybe something like a beaver tail or bear claw pastry." He said, Alfred laughing in genuine humor at his twin and pulling Matthew out of his pastry-filled daydream.
"So you're suggesting I run around town and take a survey to help build up the world's population of animal-named pastries. They're not as fantastic as burgers you know." Alfred said, Matthew sighing again.
"Well, Arthur's probably already figured out how many there are…" Matthew mumbled with an eye roll. But it seemed that did the trick for his brother, Alfred sputtering in surprise a few more times.
"No…" He denied, looking over to his twin with a bit of a pout. "I mean, why would he…stupid Brit, trying to get the jump on me." He muttered, Matthew snickering a little at the constant need for a competition between him and Arthur. "Oh! I know!" Alfred said, Matthew's amusement quickly shifting to worry over the tone his brother used as he'd reached some sort of revelation.
Kumajirou poked his head between the two brothers, Matthew petting the top of the bear's head to keep him from climbing up any further into the front seat like normal. If people liked to warn about letting cats roam about the car and getting under the driver's legs and in the way of the pedals, it was nothing compared to a polar bear that liked to decide he could steer the steering wheel better if you happened to pass a place he thought might be better to get lunch. Matthew often thought it amusingly coincidental the likeness between his bear and brother on that account, smirking to himself a little as he had to point out a turn the American would likely have missed.
"I'll make all sorts of charts that'll put him to shame with my analysis, like you said. Then I'll have Tony…" Alfred began, bouncing in his seat like before as he thought up some grand scheme to show off, especially to Arthur. 'Special relationship' or not, Alfred liked to show off to Arthur still and vice versa. But Matthew could care less if it meant Alfred was going to stay out of the symposium. Alfred was still rambling, either not noticing or caring that his twin wasn't really paying attention to him, when they did finally pull into the hotel parking lot.
Matthew hurried to get to the symposium meeting room, having successfully left Alfred to his own devices for better or worse. He loved his brother, but he could only be babysitter for so long and hoped Francis would understand.
"Ah, Bonjour mon petite frere Mathieu." Francis said as he greeted his former colony before addressing the others. "I appreciate you and so many others coming since this is not a formal summit after all. I thought it would be somewhat helpful though to meet again before the world meeting, a sort of meeting to fill the gaps between summits." He said as he led Mathieu and a few others into the conference room. "I know that with the world meeting coming up, this could be used as a rehearsal too and, of course, enjoy the company of others who appreciate what constitutes the finer things in life, hon hon hon…" He said, lifting up a glass of wine he'd had placed at everyone's seat as those who did manage to attend an unofficial meeting gave small smiles at the barb obviously tossed to Arthur.
For the most part, these 'unofficial' summits that Francis held before world meetings, as he said, did put up the façade of being rehearsals and attempts were made but they were more like 'family reunions' for the Frenchman. Everyone knew it, and those who didn't mind indulging their 'Big Brother' would attend and humor him while trying to dwell on the more happier memories they had with Francis– namely enjoying the food Francis would offer as he went off on long-winded tangents of the merits of 'the finer things in life', namely anything associated with his own culture.
"Francis…." Matthew whispered out after he'd taken a sip of the smooth wine the Frenchman had provided. "Um…sorry, sorry…." He began as he looked around, interrupting anything else that Francis had intended to say in his opening. There were a few chuckles around the room, Matthew always grateful that at least at these meetings he was mostly remembered.
"But, I thought it best to start off with a warning that we might be interrupted a few times. Um…despite my best efforts, I'm sorry, but…." He began, Francis sighing and motioning for his brother to hurry things along with an encouraging hand motion. "Well…." He continued with a sigh before rushing out the rest. "Alfred-tagged-along-and-is-in-the-hotel-right-now-and-plans-on-dropping-by-to-say-hi-at-some-point-but-I-tried-to-give-him-something-else-to-work-on-before-the-world-meeting-to-keep-him-busy-so-he-may-or-may-not-be-wandering-around-the-whole-of-Paris-and…and….sorry." He said with a bit of a wince. "He means well, eh. You know he just likes to be….heroic…" He said with a chuckle while the others' responses were a range of reactions.
Francis put down his glass of wine with practiced patience as Matthew gave a sheepish smile. "Amerique decided to come early? Pourquoi?" He asked, receiving a bit of an exasperated look from Matthew.
"Does he need an actual reason?" Matthew said, Francis nodding his head in agreement. "But he likes to poke around. He's doing something food-related now I think. He thinks he's going to one-up Arthur or something at the meeting by making a census of sorts of the amount and types of bakeries frequented by tourists and taking those findings and superimposing them with some sort of American-style plan for…to be honest, I sort of nodded off after he mentioned including his alien friend." He said, Francis rubbing his head.
"Mathieu, are you telling me Alfred is going to be tearing apart my beloved bakeries to try and make them serve hamburgers or something?" He asked, receiving a shrug from Mathieu. "Well, I am going to have to rely on having God on my side and trust that he is not planning anything…did you say his alien friend? Mon dieu, what could he possibly be thinking about with food and his alien friend? He will ruin it!" He said, worry evident that his gourmet tradition and reputation might be in danger of American improvement.
But his musings were interrupted yet again by a knock on the door, the others groaning in expectation of Alfred barging in. Although some seemed not to mind too much, considering the American had a notable 'French Quarter' in a certain town that was famous for its party atmosphere and figured it might be at least amusing to let him in. Instead though, a higher pitched voice answered, its accent distinctly not American.
"Ve~. Big Brother France! Look, I made it on time!" Feliciano's voice drifted through the doors as he knocked again. Francis looked stunned at hearing the northern Italian personification calling out to him from the other side of the doors, which he promptly opened to see the smiling face of said man. "I know I always seem to make it on time because Germany is such a good friend and reminds me when he's going so we can meet up together. But Romano told me I should be able to do it on my own, but I guess I beat him too, ve~" He said with a giggle.
"Ah….oui, that you did." Francis said as Feliciano made his way inside the room. The Italian looked around, tilting his head as he took in which other personifications were in the room. He turned back to Francis with confusion on his face.
"Oh, you don't have everyone here yet? That means I'm-a really prepared this time! You have even better food than what you normally put out." He said, grabbing a pastry from one of the platters. Matthew snickered at that, a little relieved it wasn't his twin making a grand entrance as he usually did.
"Well, to be honest Feliciano…I wasn't actually expecting you so soon." Francis said, placing an arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "But you are welcome to sit in with us, if you don't mind us slipping into my language more often than not." He said, Feliciano shrugging and plopping down into a seat. At the questioning looks from the other Francophonie members, Francis gave a short chuckle before answering. "Mes chers, you must understand. It is like this…Feliciano, if I invite you to dinner at eight, what does that mean?" He said to Feliciano, who was enjoying another pastry with a smile on his face.
"Ooooh, you need some cannoli or sfogliatelle pastries here….Oh? You-a mean nine, don't you?" He asked with a carefree attitude, the others around him nodding in understanding at what Francis was getting at with his statement.
"Et voila." Francis said, going back over to where he was seated. "It would take even longer to get started. But Feliciano, you at least get the date right. You are here a couple of days in advance." He said, question clear in his voice.
"Hmm?" Feliciano said, turning back from speaking with Tunisia to face Francis again. "But I heard America was coming today. He told Japan when he was building some sort of speaker system and Japan told me when I was-a complaining about not being considered punctual." He said, bouncing around much like Alfred had been doing earlier.
"Would he have told anyone else?" Matthew asked, suddenly nervous for Francis. If Alfred told Kiku, who probably mentioned it in passing to Feliciano who somehow remembered…then if he'd spoken at all with Arthur as they sometimes did and Arthur learned Alfred was in France a few days early….Arthur wouldn't want to make it seem like he was being outdone by the American even if it meant spending more time on the lands of his frenemy.
"Well, I'm-a not too sure. I didn't stay long since it was nearing time for a riposo." Feliciano answered. Matthew turned back to Francis as the older man shook his head, probably thinking along the same lines.
"Merveilleux…Feliciano, it is always so nice to have you spend time with Big Brother…" Francis was saying as he watched Feliciano take another pastry with an evaluating look on his face before shaking his head and mentioning something about having to make something next time if he ever came early again.
"You could always see if you could find America." Monaco suggested with a smile, hoping Feliciano would take the hint and make good on her suggestion.
"Si, Cristoforo Columbo already did." Feliciano said, Matthew giving a small chuckle at that statement along with a shake of his head at Feliciano's ever-present inability to read the atmosphere. "But everybody is-a always thinking he was Spanish or…." He said with a small shudder, "…English." He finished, making himself comfortable in his chair.
"No, Monaco meant now Italy." Belgium said as she forced a smile on her face, although it wasn't really all that hard for her to do when dealing with either Italian brother. Lovino and Feliciano had a long history of 'practicing' flirting with her, much to Antonio's exasperation at first.
"If you wouldn't mind, eh? I may have lost him." Matthew said timidly, already sensing that he was becoming overlooked by the northern Italian personification. Feliciano nodded enthusiastically as he finished up with his pastry, brushing his hands together to get rid of any lingering crumbs. He stood up from his seat with an enthusiastic look on his face, opening his mouth to respond when another voice seemed to come out of his mouth.
"If you don't, I bloody well will." Arthur's booming voice cut in, gaining the room's attention as all heads turned to see him standing in the corner of the room with his arms crossed in front of his chest and an imposing look on his face. Curiously though, he had a leaf in his hair as apparently every time he puts his stealth to use, somehow a twig or leaf catches in his hair – the Englishman considered himself lucky that's all there was and no mouse.
"Merde. Why are you 'ere? 'ave you finally realized you just can't bear to be without me for such long periods of time you come rushing to my side?" Francis said in irritation, mock-flirtation voice in full use when he used those kinds of lines with Arthur; other times they were actually said as almost a serious question by the self-proclaimed country of love.
"Phff…Hardly." Arthur said as he brushed the leaf out of his hair, assuming it must have come from the vine he climbed up to enter the large window he'd had to pick the lock of despite knowing his badge for the world meeting would get him past security far easier. "You can have your little tea party like you usually do when you're hosting a world meeting, but it's something else when America decides to suddenly join. I'd say suspicious." He said accusatorily to the Frenchman who had looked grievously offended at the mention of him hosting a tea party the likes of what Arthur considered.
"Is that perhaps jealousy I hear in your voice?" Francis goaded, smirk in place as the two rivals slowly began to inch toward one another as was inevitable when they started arguing. "Hon hon hon…what did you think Amerique 'as come to me for this time? Hmmm?" He continued, Arthur's brows furrowing in anger.
"Come off it, you bloody frog…" Arthur began, smacking the Frenchman on the arm. But Francis only laughed at successfully irking the British personification at any mention of Alfred turning to Francis for anything since it brought up other episodes in the three's past.
"Non. I'm not listening to anything you have to say." Francis said flippantly, making a show of acting like the other man was not worth the time. "You were not invited to this soirre mon cher, 'owever much I know you deep down wish to be. Hon, hon, hon…so, be a gentleman, and get out." He said, grabbing his wine and taking another sip – more of a gulp at this point but he did his best not to down it like Prussia or Russia were wont to do with their alcoholic beverages.
"As if I should deign to grace you with my presence any longer and run the risk of having any of this…" He began, sounding as eloquent as usual before just gesturing to Francis with a disgusted look on his face. "….give me further cause for nightmares. I'm just letting you know, I'm going to be watching…" He said with a glare, Francis give him a dismissive gesture with his hand as Arthur huffed and did an about-face to walk stiffly out of the room.
Feliciano still stood where he was, unsure of what to do at that moment since it seemed Arthur had followed him as Francis had begun to suspect. "Um…ve~…" He said, scratching the back of neck awkwardly as he looked back at Francis. "I'll…um….Oh! I'll go see what Alfredo's up to! I'll see you for dinner Francis!" He called out as he quickly made his own exit from the room.
"Feliciano, I wasn't actually inviting….oh, très bien. See you later Italie." Francis said, looking about the room once the doors were shut again. "Madagascar, could you make sure the doors are locked this time, s'il vous plait?" He asked of the personification seated closest to the door, Madagascar getting up to do so as Francis sighed. "Now, let's get to less irritating things than Angleterre, shall we?" He said, already roaming about the room and unfortunately missing Matthew trying to get his attention that he might want to be a little more worried about having Alfred meet up with Arthur without any preparation.
Alfred was feeling pleased with himself, having taken his twin's attempt to be rid of him for the day – or perhaps attempt wasn't the right word to use since he had actually partially followed through – and did what he liked to do. Namely, anything that could combine his love of different foods along with his fondness for math or science.
He'd concocted another of his trademark ideas, and had determined that if they could start implementing a plan where global warming could be reduced by super absorbing dough that could then be made into the world's largest hamburger bun….or something like that. Or a sort of "Cloudy With A Chance of Meatballs' – style deal with sugar products if chemical alignments could be created that when added to the atmosphere produced cotton candy showers or something to help alleviate hunger problems around the world. And of course, a great plan needs a great unveiling and he just happened to bring along a new speaker system he'd been building with Japan.
Now all he needed to do was set things up in a room large enough for the surround sound to make a difference. He wasn't a total idiot – having shot off a gun before by accident in the cockpit of one of the planes he'd flown over the years, he didn't want a repeat of blowing one's eardrums completely out of whack for a few days. So with his quickly written up ideas with a few stains from pastries he'd had to sample at the numerous bakeries, for scientific purposes, he'd taken to commandeering a semi-large conference room on the fifth floor rather than the usual first-floor rooms that he might have preferred. It was safer not to incur the wrath of his brother if he managed to interrupt too soon after all.
"Alright, so this goes here and I need to adjust this a little…" Alfred muttered aloud to himself as he worked, holding a bunch of wires as he maneuvered things into place. He was completely absorbed in his project that he only noticed it was getting darker when his hunger made a comeback. "Oh man….I'm almost done." He said, debating over whether or not to grab something to eat or to suck it up for a little longer and then splurge with Matthew.
"Ve~! There you are Alfredo!" Feliciano's cheerful voice drifted over to him, although some of the mirth seemed more forced since he sounded exhausted too. "Good thing I found you too!" He said, walking over to see what Alfred was up to.
"Oh, hey Feli dude." Alfred said, standing up from where he was trying to figure out how to deal with the outlet. It was the simplest step compared with all the other things he'd spent the afternoon putting together based on some of Japan's recommendations – which, he should have known, were in Japanese and therefore ate up the most of his time in trying to decipher. "I didn't know you were a part of the French Fry club." He said, Feliciano looking confused for a moment.
"Oh! No, I arrived early. Like-a you did." Feliciano said with a shrug. "Francis asked me to see if I could find you earlier, but with travel and trying to find a decent place for lunch, I may have taken a slightly longer riposo than usual." He said, Alfred chuckling in response to a typical day's work for the other personification.
"I take it that you came with Germany then?" Alfred asked, seeming to spark a little more enthusiasm from the Italian at the mention of his friend.
"No! I can be punctual all on my own! Nobody seems to believe me when I tell them I really am strong…I just don't like being…well…" Feliciano began, but Alfred waved him off as he grabbed Kiku's notes to look over and see if there was something he missed to explain why he couldn't just plug things in at this point and let the show begin.
"Nah, I didn't mean anything by it. Sorry man, my mind's a little fried at this point from trying to put this together." He said, showing his instructions to Feliciano. "You'd think with having experience with foreign language instructions, I'd be better at this. I get enough practice with Sweden's IKEA stuff, although I mostly just improvise on my own and end up with extra screws and stuff." He said with a chuckle, noticing that with the technology he'd put everything where he was relatively certain they were supposed to go.
Feliciano was looking over the instructions with a far off look on his face, turning the paper upside down at one point before simply shrugging again and handing it back to Alfred. "You know, pasta always helps me think better. Have you eaten yet?" Feliciano asked, Alfred shaking his head.
"Nope. I get wrapped up in cool stuff like this and sometimes I get too carried away and forget about what time it is." Alfred said, Feliciano looking appalled at such an idea. "You should've seen what I was like when I was just gettin' started with electrical gizmos. Anyway…." He continued before Feliciano interrupted with an emphatic shake of his head.
"I'll go see if I can find something that'll do the trick! I'll do my best, but I'm supposed to be having dinner with Francis later." Feliciano said urgently. "Don't move from this spot!" He said, Alfred checking his watch.
"But it's five o'clock now." He said, a little confused as to why the Italian would decide to eat now if he was going to be eating again in a little while. But Feliciano had already sprinted out of the room to find something he considered decent enough food, Alfred shrugging before returning to work at one of the outlets.
"Problem's definitely with the outlet. Freaky European stuff. It's broken." Alfred concluded as he grabbed his screwdriver. "I'll fix it, 'cuz that's what heroes do! Francis is gonna be better off once I've helped." He mumbled to himself with a smile, prying the outlet apart and getting at the wires.
He fiddled with it a little longer before sticking his screwdriver back into the hole to try and get better access to what he was looking at when he felt a sensation he'd become familiar with over the years of experimentation with his so-called gizmos. He involuntarily jerked a couple of times, knocking over the lamp that he'd stationed next to him, the lamp falling and lightbulb smashing and sparking as the currents were thrown off by Alfred's tinkering.
Alfred was flung back at least a foot, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling as he tried to get his bearings. He groaned at the unpleasant feeling and then groaned again as the lights flickered and went out. He tried to sit up and fix the situation, only managing to make himself more uncomfortable and choosing to just wait until Feliciano came back to try anything else. In his frazzled state, he failed to notice that the lamp he'd broken had apparently caught the edge of the tassel for the fancy drapes as it fell, leaving the window in a mess and providing material for those sparks to catch onto quite easily.
Arthur had returned to the hotel after trailing after the American based on only a few reports that described Alfred's typical behavior and appearance almost exactly. He thought it would be an easy enough search considering Alfred's boisterous personality and the fact that he was carrying around a noticeable backpack as though for a hiking trip rather than a stroll through the city. But it also matched several of the American tourists in their enthusiasm and the fact that they all seemed prepared in case they suddenly found themselves without access to food and water for a couple of days with their large travel backpacks.
Arthur's search had him following after several other blonde American men and had him spending too much time out on the streets of his frenemy's home than he would have cared. He did wonder why Alfred had his backpack with him, but Matthew did tell him that he'd apparently set up some sort of quasi-research project for Alfred in the hopes that it would keep him from hanging around the hotel too much and inevitably joining the symposium.
"Damn, where the hell could he have gone? I even checked with the nearest McDonald's." Arthur said to himself, running a hand through his hair as he gave a tired sigh, sinking into one of the hotel lobby's elegant chairs to take a break. "I just know he's up to something else. No doubt some extravagant prank. If he thinks he can one-up me, he's sadly forgotten just what I can do. Who does he think he learned it from in the first place?" He continued to huff, spying his fairies that he'd incorporated into his search of the nearby area.
"Um…Arthur?" Matthew timidly asked as she approached his brother figure, wondering how to start a conversation with him when it seemed he was content speaking to the air again. "Arthur?" He called out again as he watched the British man wave at something before apparently coming back to himself, finally taking notice of Matthew.
"Oh…er…" Arthur began, slight blush tinting his face as he recognized that the American look-alike wasn't actually America, but also seemed to be at a loss for the other's proper name. "Oh! Matthew! Right…" He said, pleased with himself at remembering his former colony while Matthew simply rolled his eyes. It wasn't too unusual for the other personification to lose his name, but it still was annoying. At least it was a nice day once things got back on schedule, Matthew thought, briefly smiling at the way the symposium turned out as the others easily remembered him and included him in conversation.
Arthur seemed to brighten up at noticing the slight smile, interpreting it as a result of him correctly remembering the northern North American's name. Francis may pride himself on always so easily recognizing Matthew as Matthew, thought Arthur, but I'm the one who had to deal with twins – one of which liked to occasionally dress up as his brother and pretend to be him. Arthur still couldn't tell for sure whether or not it was just Alfred who'd play like that or if Matthew actually liked to mess with him from time to time too.
"Yes, well, anyway…" Arthur began, speaking over Matthew's attempt to see how the day went. "I've yet to see that brother of yours, although he surely left a trail behind him as he blew through town like one of his tornadoes." He said, Matthew politely nodding along as he sat next to Arthur on the couch opposite him, helping his bear get seated on the piece of furniture too.
"Well, I'm sure he's probably just back in his room. No need to worry eh." Matthew said with an optimistic tone as he kept Kumajirou from eating all of the mints that had been placed on the nearby table. "Why don't you just call him?" He asked, Arthur scoffing at that as he leaned a little more forward in the chair.
"As if it would be that easy." Arthur sarcastically remarked, his look shifting into a scowl as Francis spotted him and Matthew. Seeing the Frenchman making his way over, Arthur pointedly ignored the other's greeting.
"It would seem our Italian friend has decided to raid the 'otel kitchen." Francis said a bit exasperatedly. "I don't mind some of his cuisine now and then, but I have a feeling we all might be having a mix of what I had prepared and whatever Feliciano is able to substitute in the time that he has." He said, Matthew snickering a little at that. Francis was known for boasting about his food, but the hotel did offer some Italian dishes that it seemed their northern Italian friend decided to take over in his spare time.
"Well if this is like one of Alfred's beloved potlucks, I could offer something." Arthur said with a smirk, knowing that even an offer would get the Frenchman riled up. "Of course, only the best comfort food since it seems you've had a troubling day." He continued, Francis recovering from looking horrified at the thought of any of Arthur's contributions to glower back at the Englishman.
"You will not touch anything in any of my kitchens, rosbif." Francis snapped, Matthew shaking his head as the two of them seemed ready to go at it again. "It is not my fault your sleuthing skills are slipping if you cannot find Alfred of all people." He remarked, Arthur standing up to confront the Frenchman.
"Oh dear…" Matthew mumbled, taking a deep breath before getting to his feet as well to play mediator. "Everybody just relax, eh. I'm sure that dinner will be fine Francis and Arthur is bound to be able to get in touch with Alfred. Let's just try and…" He began, not sure if he was being ignored as the two continue to stare at each other vehemently. But before he could finish his suggestion, the lights flickered and then went out, sparking a few concerned shouts and numerous mumblings of 'que' from the others in the lobby.
"Oh, superb accommodations frog. Shall I fetch my candelabra for the meeting?" Arthur snarkily replied, Francis huffing at him before making his way over to the front desk with the limited light from the setting sun.
"Here Arthur." Matthew said, his voice startling the older blonde as he'd forgotten about the other's presence and couldn't see him in the dark anyway. Turning he found himself facing Matthew with a small flashlight already out. "I usually carry one on me. A Mountie has to be prepared." He said, Arthur thanking the other as the two followed Francis over to where he was conversing rapidly with the hotel staff in his native language.
"Ah! Merci!" Francis said, plucking the flashlight out of Arthur's hands to use to light up what he was trying to read. Arthur sputtered and reached for it back, but Francis successfully avoided the other's grasp until he gave out a triumphant noise. Grabbing the light back, Arthur shined it directly in the Frenchman's face, temporarily blinding him.
"What is going on?" Arthur demanded, a similar question being asked by Kumajirou as he bumped into Matthew's leg.
"Well obviously something has shorted out with the electricity. A few of the staff are going to check the circuit breakers and things will be back to normal shortly." Francis said calmly, noticing that some of the others had gravitated toward the front desk. "So long as you don't interfere." He said a little more quietly to Arthur, giving a typical laugh at how easily he'd riled up the other.
"Oh, this has Alfred written all over it." Matthew groaned, wondering what had happened. Apparently that comment, although the others had been a series of hit and misses with the two Europeans, had reached both of them as they both turned toward the Canadian. Seeing that he had their attention, Matthew gave a timid-sounding chuckle before simply shrugging. "Well, think about it. And…and, we still haven't heard from him yet." He said, Francis sighing at the other's observation.
A commotion was heard on the stairs behind them as shouts were heard. "What is going on now?" Arthur said, walking away from the other two to head over to the stairs, shining the flashlight into the stairwell to see if he could spot anything. He could make out enough from what was being said to know that there was a panic about something else.
"Smoke…fifth floor." Arthur said, shining the light back to Matthew to have him confirm what he'd translated, since the Canadian had managed to follow after Arthur despite the other taking the flashlight with him.
"Ugh…I told you not to touch my kitchens Angleterre." Francis said, pushing the other's shoulder roughly before starting up the staircase.
"I didn't!" Arthur defended himself before hearing what the other had to say. "And just what are you implying?" He called out after Francis, racing after him.
Francis turned to face the other, pausing in his climb. "I imply nothing! It is exactly as I say" He said, before returning to climbing up to the fifth floor, Arthur growling at the insult to his cooking yet again.
"Just climb!" Matthew said from behind Arthur, pushing him to follow after Francis. "And yes, I smell smoke too. Something is on fire." He said to confirm that there was indeed a legitimate issue to be concerned about before either European delved back into one of their unending arguments.
Arthur gave an awkward sounding cough before doing as suggested, blush tinting his cheeks that he found himself grateful for the dark to hide. The trio were shortly at the entrance to the fifth floor, Francis hurriedly pulling the door open and the other two bracing in case they were met with flames. But it seemed like everything was normal, the hallway a little crowded with people coming out of the rooms to try and determine what was wrong and where the smoke was coming from.
"Francis, we didn't wait to notify emergency services." Matthew said as they tried to follow the scent of smoke in the air. "Are you sure you shouldn't go back down…" He began but Francis cut him off.
"Non. The staff heard the concerns over smoke being smelled. They will have notified the proper authorities, but I need to see if there is a way to keep the fire from spreading if I can." He said, clearly highly worried but maintaining his composure.
"Well that is very noble of you, how heroic. Like a certain American we know." Arthur said dryly. "I understand your fear of fire spreading to catch the rest of the city, trust me Francis, but how do you plan on doing that?" He asked, shining his light back on the Frenchman.
"If you're 'ere to provide commentary like your ridiculous documentaries, then leave." Francis said, opening another door to find it empty and devoid of whatever was smoking.
"I'm saying you need the proper equipment." Arthur said irritably, Matthew sighing at the two of them. One second arguing and the next, still arguing but doing so while aiding one another. "Where might the fire extinguisher be?" Arthur asked as calmly as he could to the distressed Frenchman.
"This is a 'otel. Where do you think?" He replied as irritably as Arthur had before. But instead of continuing to get worked up, the other took a deep breath, grabbing a hair-tie out of his pocket and tying his hair back to keep from falling in his face as he did whatever was necessary.
"Alright, let's see if there's one we can…" Arthur began, searching his light over the walls only to stop once he found Matthew standing beside him, fire extinguisher already in hand. "Right then. Good job Matthew. Let us continue on in a systematic sweep." He said, Francis grabbing the fire extinguisher from Matthew before following after Arthur.
The next three doors left them with same level of success as before. "Are we sure it's not drifting up or down from another floor?" Arthur asked, grabbing the handle of another door and pushing it open to be met with his answer.
"Mon dieu!" Francis shouted, racing into the room to put out the flaming curtains and carpet over by the window, Matthew following and grabbing the other window's drapes to help smother the flames. In short work they managed to contain the fire and successfully put it out, easing the French personification's panic. A power outage and a fire could have easily been because of something larger to worry about in his opinion and was thankful that all seemed to be in the clear. At least he felt that way until he heard the hesitant, worried British voice behind him.
"Alfred?" Arthur called out, evidently just spotting the younger personification sprawled out on the floor with Matthew's flashlight. "Alfred, are you alright? What…what are you doing on the floor?" He asked, coming over to kneel beside him as Matthew hurried over to check on his twin and neighbor.
Alfred vaguely felt himself getting jostled and that there was a light shining on his face. He heard a voice, but he couldn't be sure who it was, only that the light was gone for a moment and gave him a chance to groggily open his eyes a fraction. Still dazed from the massive shock, he distantly registered a blurry form of Arthur waving a hand in front of his face before the face was gone and shouting was heard, along with several thudding noises that Alfred found to be really irritating. Then it was Matthew's face hovering over him, repeating the same motion Arthur did, although this time Alfred had a little more awareness and could actually follow Matthew's hand.
Matthew sighed in relief once he saw that Alfred wasn't just vacantly staring up at the ceiling like a corpse, looking up to see the chaos that was Arthur and Francis as Arthur became convinced that Francis had plotted the whole time to do Alfred in. To which the Frenchman responded with a remark about how not everything was like his Shakespeare's morbid plays and that it was an accident.
"Arthur! Arthur, he'll be alright!" Matthew called out, not sure if he could follow the fight since it was in the dark and the only source of light was the flashlight that had been used by Arthur as club to smash against the French personification's head. Thanks to that, the light was not the most reliable source for the Canadian, as it kept winking in and out and providing him with an interesting view of the two fighting Europeans.
Matthew had to smack the flashlight every now and then when the light would blink out, and each time he managed to get the light back, he saw France and England in a plethora of concerning yet humorous positions that looked they belonged more in Arthur's Monty Python skits than anything else. After Arthur had raced after Francis, the two looked as though playing musical chairs as the Frenchman tried to flee the seething Englishman but was unable to find the way out of the room and the two had been reduced to running in circles around the chairs Alfred had set up. All that's missing is the Benny Hill theme, Matthew though with a shake of his head before sighing as the light went out again.
Smacking it a few times, Matthew was able to get the light back only to see that the Frenchman had grabbed a nearby chair and was using it to keep Arthur back as though he was a big cat rather than a person, the next time the spotlight revealed France with England in a headlock as he tried to talk some reason into the irate green-eyed blonde while Arthur retaliated by biting Francis' hand hard enough to draw blood.
The next time the light turned on and off, Arthur had somehow managed to get himself on Francis' back, the taller blonde blocking his face from the blows and trying to get Arthur off by backing into the wall. Matthew called out repeatedly for the two to quit their fighting, only to find the next time the light blinked that the two were on the floor, clearly having blindly reached for each other in the dark. Alfred had begun mumbling incoherently, spastically reaching out to his twin. The American managed to catch his brother's wrist one time, shocking him.
"Ow! Alfred….ah, maple…." Matthew muttered as he rubbed his wrist before reaching into the darkness for the flashlight, having dropped it thanks to his brother's unintentional shock. Finally finding it, he let out a disappointed groan at the apparent inability to get it back on again. "Ah….voyons, soit sage…."Matthew said exasperatedly in French Canadian, only able to hear the grunts and yells from Arthur and Francis.
"Gi…m'no…Ma…" Alfred grumbled, Matthew reluctant to touch his brother again for fear of getting shocked again. "Gim…"Alfred said, touching the handle of the flashlight and causing it to brighten up significantly and illuminate how Arthur had taken to smacking Francis with one of the houseplants with the large, fan-size leaves that the British man had grabbed at in the dark without actually realizing what he'd grabbed. The pot and dirt lay on the floor from where they'd knocked it over when they'd rolled on the ground, Arthur clearly hoping he'd grabbed something resembling a weapon. Although he was succeeding in frustrating Francis as the other made sputtering noises whenever the plant hit him in the face, swatting at it like a cat and trying to keep any more dirt from getting in his hair.
"What is-a going on up here?!" Feliciano's voice interrupted, Matthew reluctantly grabbing his twin's sleeve to redirect the light toward where he suspected the Italian to be standing. Sure enough, a surprised Feliciano stood in the doorway, a plate of spaghetti and meatballs in his hands.
Matthew stared at him in bewilderment, wondering how it was that the flighty northern Italian had managed to climb the stairs in the dark and keep a grip on the plate. That, and it was not Feliciano's preference to make an American version of an 'authentic Italian' dish – he'd clearly been hoping to either help out Alfred by making him a familiar meal that was sort of like what the Italian was used to….or didn't want to hear Alfred go on about the lack of sizable meatballs soaked in marinara sauce like the last time he'd had a pasta dish with the pasta-lover.
Feliciano continued into the room, a crash sounding over from the other side of the room grabbing both the Italian's and the Canadian's attention. Matthew turned back over to where the two blonde Europeans had last been scrupling, inadvertently guiding the light away from where Feliciano desperately needed it since previous navigational luck in the dark failed him and he tripped forward on the leg of an overturned chair.
The dish of food was tossed into the air with an exclamation of 'Oh!' from Feliciano, Matthew getting sprayed with some wayward sauce as he closed him eyes in a wince. "Ve~?" Feliciano said with a question, Matthew attempting to redirect the light over again toward the Italian only for the bulb to burst from Alfred squeezing too tight in his own surprise.
Luckily the lights came back on at that moment, Matthew seeing Arthur and Francis blinking in confusion at one another as they adjusted to the lights coming back on and took in their own ruffed-up appearance. On the floor lay Feliciano, noodles and meatballs a mess in his hair and sauce dripping down onto his face.
"Flying Spaghetti Monster!" Alfred shouted, the first complete words he'd said since he'd started to come back into lucidity. Or at least closer to it, in Matthew's opinion as he regarded his brother staring up in wonder and fascination at Feliciano as the Italian got to his knees and peered back at Alfred.
"Spaghetti Monster? Wha-Where?!" Feliciano asked, righting himself quickly and ignoring Matthew's attempt to explain, stumbling into Arthur and knocking him into the chairs again while Francis laughed and grabbed a meatball off of Feliciano's had to chuck at the Englishman.
This of course, returned Arthur's attention to the Frenchman, jumping back into roughing the other up as he grabbed at the remaining meatball in Feliciano's hair to toss back at the Frenchman. Francis sputtered but managed to trip the smaller blonde, wiping his lip from where Arthur had managed to land a punch…not that Francis hadn't managed to give Arthur quite a shiner of his own to show off at the upcoming meeting.
"What exactly 'as you so worked up Angleterre? Clearly your 'special relationship' is absolutely fine since Amerique is currently flopping around like a fish." Francis said, Arthur's open mouth ready to retort closed as he looked over to where Matthew was dealing with a rambling Feliciano while simultaneously trying to aid his twin and keep his polar bear from climbing up the Italian and lap up the rest of the pasta dish that Kumajirou had already started to clean up based on the ring of red around his snout from the marinara sauce.
It was apparent that speech had fallen out of Alfred's grasp again as he indeed grabbled to sit up on his own, shocking Matthew and Feliciano each time they tried to offer to assist him. Alfred waved off their help and Feliciano gave off a yelp each time he went back over to help, occasionally asking about how it was possible for anything associated with pasta to be monstrous while Matthew's timid mumblings that there was no intended slight to his beloved food went unheard.
"What the bloody hell is going on with you three?!" Arthur shouted in bewilderment, watching Alfred carefully with barely concealed relief on his face. "Alfred, what did you do? Listen to your brother for Heaven's sake." He said, walking over to try and assist the overwhelmed Canadian.
Francis scoffed at the lack of any recognition of melodrama on the British man's part, not expecting any sort of apology since that was how the two of them interacted anyway. He was known for a few instances of 'flying off the handle' as Alfred would call it, especially if there was a serious slight that he felt justified in not only insulting but delivering a few punches to the other.
The Frenchman laughed as he watched Arthur attempt to appear unconcerned over Alfred as he reached down to grab a fistful of the other's jacket while scolding him as usual. While that was not an unusual action of Arthur's, the subsequent shout and jump the green-eyed man gave as he received a shock of his own certainly was. Matthew's cry of "No, no wait!" had gone unheaded and so resulted in the British personification falling into the Italian, Feliciano yelping yet again in concern as he dropped back to the floor and accidentally brushed Alfred's arm and received another shock.
Except that he had still been holding onto Arthur's arm in his attempt to brace from Arthur jumping into him and his own attempt to keep from falling. Therefore the shock travelled into Arthur and the two stumbled again, both falling on the floor.
"Oh, hilarante!" Francis said, laughing heartedly at the scene in front of him. Matthew sighed and sent his former guardian an exasperated look at the lack of help from him.
"Francis… Aider, s'il vous plait…" Matthew pleaded with him, Francis shaking his head despite the way Matthew's eyes seemed to be pulling him in like Alfred's puppy-dog pout seemed to always work on Arthur. It would seem either it was a shared trait the North Americans inherently had, or perhaps the northern twin had learned it from his southern twin since the longer he looked the more he felt his resolve crumbling. "Non…I think it safer not to be touching any of you for a while…"
"Oh, well there's a twist." Arthur dryly remarked, shoving Feliciano away from him. Standing up he sighed at the sight of the three other men on the floor before looking around the room a little guiltily. "Well, anyway…" He said, clearing his throat and standing straighter to appear more authoritarian even though he knew it never really seemed to have any effect on Francis other than earning himself a possible leer or glare, "…I expect you to fix this mess in time for the meeting like a proper host should do. Good day." He said stiffly, walking past Francis toward the exit, only to have Francis trip him once more and cause him to briefly stumble. Glaring over his shoulder at the faux innocent look on the Frenchman's face, he gave a huff before finally leaving the others to deal with the mess left behind.
When the world meeting did eventually come around, Alfred had sufficiently slept off most of the effects of electrocuting himself the other day. Matthew had managed to get him to his feet and guide him, stumbling, over to the elevator and slowly back to his room where he periodically checked on him.
"What the hell where you doing to the wall anyway Alfred?" Matthew asked both sternly and yet confusedly, recalling the mess of wires that Alfred had pulled out of the outlet. "And stop grabbing at me! You're shocking me every time you do, eh." He said, prying Alfred's grip off of him with a wince as he continued to receive unintentional shocks from the overcharged American.
Alfred wobbled a little in his seat, still a bit unsteady and occasionally messing up words and the order of words as he spoke without realizing it as his body adjusted. This apparently made everyone assume that since Alfred had latched onto Matthew to appear 'normal', the Canadian was to act as translator for the others.
Although, Yao had commented that there wasn't much of a difference in their American friend's speech according to him. That had earned him an irritated glare and a stream of what was a mix of colonial and valley girl dialects from Alfred that took a moment to process meaning from – although emotion was plainly evident without the actual words.
"Fixing wires I was….damn it…" Alfred began, catching himself with a grumble as he caught himself slipping and Matthew unable to keep from chuckling.
"Okay, okay…" Matthew said gently, Alfred relaxing his shoulders a little at the apparent sympathy, "…Yoda…" The northern North American finished, trailing off into snickering as Alfred immediately pouted and tried to articulate something else and failing spectacularly as he earned more giggles from the others, his comment of "Funny is not" not aiding his cause. Alfred ended with a growl and poked his twin on the hand, smirking triumphantly when Matthew yelped at the shock.
"Oh, please…" Alfred said with an eye roll before trying again. "Um…yank…my screwdriver…" Alfred tried again, earning several more hearty laughs along with simultaneous worried and confused looks. Not seeing the message get across, although Francis had his own translation that earned him groans of exasperation, Alfred kept going. "Plug Arthur in awesome a present speaker plan pasta." Alfred said with a confident nod, apparently feeling as though he'd been successful in explaining.
"Pasta?" Feliciano said, sitting a little straighter in his chair at hearing his favorite word, gaining a long-suffering moan from Ludwig as he could tell where the meeting might be going. "Ve~, Germany….Germany, is it pasta break time again?" He asked, looking to the other with a hopeful expression.
"Nein. We have lunch in two hours. You can wait." Ludwig said, Feliciano pouting in disappointment and getting up out of his seat. "Vhat are you doing?" Ludwig asked, following Feliciano with his eyes as the Italian simply grabbed what he had apparently stored in one of the rooms side tables, opening up the cabinets to show he'd taken out the shelves that had likely held supplies and documents. Instead, there were insulated bags that he had placed in there and promptly walked back over to the meeting table and set it down upon. Seeing his older brother shaking his head, Feliciano cocked his head in confusion.
"What? Don't you want some?" Feliciano asked as his brother grumbled about him sabotaging a meeting room again with pasta. "I know it's never as good as when it's freshly made and it had been sitting in a container for a while…but I made so much of it the other day for Mr. America but he didn't get to eat it because of all the lights going out." He said, taking out several containers worth of spaghetti and some with meatballs.
Alfred perked up at that, pointing at Feliciano and letting out a series of noises that made even Arthur look a little worried for the health of their American friend before Alfred groaned at not being understood and ran a hand across his face in frustration. He slumped in his chair before straightening up and grabbing a piece of paper to scribble on while Feliciano continued to babble about his pasta.
"Si! I got a little carried away in Francis' kitchen, thinking about the dinner we were going to get to even though it didn't work out that day." He said in an unconcerned manner, Francis receiving a few looks for clarification but the Frenchman gave a small shrug in return.
"Yes, but I am surprised that any of it is still left Italy-san." Kiku said, leaning back in his chair as Feliciano placed a plate down in front of him that he seemingly had pulled out of thin air as he began to put together his improvised pasta break that he knew his German friend would have otherwise denied him.
"Normally I would have eaten it by now, but…" Feliciano began, only to be interrupted by his brother yet again commenting on the food placed before him.
"What the hell is this sludge you're calling a marinara sauce? Why would you drown the noodles in it like this? And add-a these ginormous meatballs? It's-a like you're….oh…." Romano said, poking at his plate with a fork before looking over to Alfred as he looked over his paper only to frown at the results and ignore his twin's efforts to persuade him to try and read it before destroying it by tearing it up and grabbing another paper to try again. "You made Hamburger-head's 'Italian' food?" He said with air quotes and an eye roll.
"I thought you said fire was in building?" Yao said as he too eyed the dish, having muttered his own comments on food preferences as usual as the topic of conversation made its way to food. "Sound more like you let Britain-aru in kitchen." He said, Arthur bristling at that comment and glaring over to the smug-looking Chinese man.
"I had nothing to do with a fire." Arthur said a little stiffly, Francis giving him one of his own smug smirks at someone else making a slight to Arthur's food that concurred with the several he usually tossed out. "I'll have you know I was instrumental in putting it out." He said, holding himself a little straighter.
"This is getting off-topic." Germany said with his usual authoritative tone. "Italy, please, I don't want any. Go sit back down." He said with irritation, observing France, England, and China already in a heated discussion about food, America and Canada conversing as best as a semi-invisible and a semi-coherent personification could, along with several other mutterings about spaghetti and meatballs going on while plates were being noisily moved around.
"Ve~….Germany….doesn't want my pasta? B-But…Germany always likes my pasta and I promise it's-a good even if it's really mostly American and I don't want to upset you but I really thought I made it well even though America called me a Flying Spaghetti Monster and then Britain and Big Brother France grabbed the meatballs off my head and threw them at each other and I had a polar bear trying to eat me…" Feliciano rambled, clutching the spoon he was using to dish out pasta closer to him as he sniffled a little.
Ivan made a noise of understanding at that point, reminded of his own encounter with a more-than-friendly munchy polar bear. But otherwise the Russian was silent, watching the others with a small smile of amusement as he added some vodka to his sauce.
"…And, I mean it must be good since the polar bear seemed to like it too and Matteo told me he is a good judge of food even though I guess he mostly eats something like fish and I had to go back to the kitchen to try and clean everything up and I am just trying to be a helpful and…and…" Feliciano continued, gaining the attention of his older brother who immediately began to simultaneously berate and cuss out the German man for making his brother cry.
"Alright, alright…I'll have some pasta Italy. I'm sorry I offended you." Ludwig said, bracing for the oncoming hug as the northern Italian instantly brightened and slammed into him, forgetting about the spoon and hitting Ludwig in the face with it. "But, if you could hurry it up so we can get back on schedule…" Ludwig began, prying Feliciano off him so he could wipe his face.
"Alfred! What are you doing?!" Matthew cried, gaining Ludwig's attention as he looked over to see the Canadian trying to stop his brother from pulling off the outlet covering that had, unfortunately, left the projector unplugged. "For the love of maple just sit down and stop poking at more electrical things or you'll end up frying yourself again!" He shouted at his brother, clear irritation and frustration in his now-audible voice as he scolded his brother.
Alfred looked up from what he was doing with an innocent expression on his face, seemingly genuinely confused as to why there were so many outlet coverings throughout the building as well as to why his twin was getting so upset. He gestured to the projector and to his notes before going back to his attempt to get rid of the child-proofing Francis had meticulously implemented almost immediately.
"Put that down you git!" Arthur said, getting up from his seat to assist Matthew and ripping the plug out of Alfred's hand with a yelp of his own as he received a shock of his own. "Will you just sit down and let us get to some semblance of order…" The British man began as he tidied the presentation area from Alfred's tampering. But looking back over at him, he sighed as he observed Alfred eyeing the outlet covering suspiciously and toying with the edges as Matthew tried to slap his hands away.
"Amerique, don't touch….." Francis interjected exasperatedly as Arthur pulled Alfred around quickly, letting go shortly after once another shock registered from touching the American. This resulted in Arthur shaking his hands in an attempt to alleviate the stinging in them and leaving Alfred to try and recover his balance. Unfortunately, this only lead to him taking a few steps while flailing his arms before crashing into one of the tables and knocking into Ivan's chair.
Ivan looked down at Alfred with amusement as the American grumbled while getting to his feet. Alfred shot him an annoyed pout before showing off a smirk he had clearly picked up from Arthur, although said man was back to berating Francis for the whole ordeal. Ivan was wary of such a look, but it also usually meant some sort of challenge that he was almost always ready to accept to beat Alfred. He stood up to better level a smirk of his own at Alfred, opening his mouth to ask him just what he was up to when Alfred gave one of his laughs and bear-hugged the Russian man.
Normally Ivan would've been more than happy to return that with one of his equally tight holds, but the ensuing sequence of shocks that came from contact with the American made him unable to do much. A startled gasp came from several of the other personifications as they watched yet another of the two's antics, seeing Ivan stiffen up while Alfred continued to playfully laugh before Ivan successfully was able to push Alfred away so that both ended up on their behinds on the floor. Ivan's hair stood on end much like Alfred's still did aside from his usual stubborn cowlick – which had earned him some comments from Netherlands about trying to copy his look.
"Thanks dude." Alfred said as he got to his feet again. "Knew there was a reason we keep lettin' ya crash the party…" He said as Ivan blinked a couple more times before using the table to right himself.
"Da. I am thinking the others think the same of you." Ivan said, trying to straighten out his clothes and wincing as static electricity from his scarf and hair gave him more shocks. "If you are wanting more hugs, I can come find you later, da?" He said, earning several shivers from other personifications from the tone he used, although Alfred just rolled his eyes.
"Okay! Hero's back in action and ready to give the most awesome presentation with super surround sound effects and stuff once I fix the outlets – you know they're broken, right Francis? – and then I can plug in the mega speakers Japan and I built…."Alfred began, walking back over to the projector with a bounce in his step.
Ludwig groaned as things began to unravel again, even though it now seemed Alfred could actually speak in a manner that they could at least try to understand what he was presenting. "Actually, I think it is time for a pasta break…" He said, leaning back in his seat and running his hands down his face.
"Yay!" Feliciano squealed loudly, enough to drown out Alfred's ramblings to Arthur. Romano huffed as he twirled his fork in his plate, watching his brother predictably begin to gush about the merits of pasta to a clearly frustrated Ludwig.
"I still don't know why there's these things in the way." Alfred said about the outlet covers, Matthew groaning and giving up as he tossed his hands in the air, ranting in French-Canadian as he left the room. Alfred looked after Matthew in confusion, but wisely refrained from following after him. He'd already been electrocuted and felt no need to give himself another zinger.