England stood up slowly from his seat. He was the last one left in the conference room, this meeting being his turn to clean up after the messy people. He groaned at the sight of America's seat, the table space almost completely covered by burger wrappers, cups, and fry containers. Oh, and look. He forgot his documents…
He got up to walk to the chalk board, and began erasing the diagrams and pictures scribbled all over it. It was only then that he realized he was not actually the only one in the room. He sighed.
"Have you decided yet, England?" the boy asked coldly, walking out from the shadows of the door.
"Iceland. I'm telling you. I'm not going to accept your crazy demands."
"They are not crazy- they are necessities to keep my country afloat."
"I'm not accepting them. We need the fishing industry, too."
"Ninety percent of our exports rely on fishing."
"Seriously, Iceland, I don't give a--…"
England's words were cut off when Iceland swiftly crossed the room to stand right in front of England and slammed his hand inches by his head on the blackboard.
"I want you out of my water," Iceland murmured coolly, the composure in his voice not matching his actions.
England smirked. "How about, 'If you can do it well, I'll pull out'?"
Iceland narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about…?"
"You know what I'm talking about." England's emerald eyes glinted arrogantly, his lips curled up in a mischievous smile.
"…You ass…," Iceland muttered, glaring at the Englishman who proceeded to cross his arms smugly.
"It's your choice," he said.