The sound of the English's croaky voice was echoing between the marble walls.
Ludwig didn't need to look around to know, that the bystanding countries rolled their eyes as annoyed as he did.
While Francis talked to him with his sweetest voice, Arthur was boiling in anger. He was yelling, rampaging and misusing the hotel interior as a weapon.
Everything was just as it was normal, when France and England both entered an event.
The only one who had probably fun, was a certain American, who was apparently happy that he was for once not the cause for this outburst.
The reason was trivial in Ludwig's opinion. While he emptied his cup of coffee and nodded a silent „Good night" to Liechtenstein, who retracted to her room. She felt uneasy with all the yelling and was the first one, that left the foyer of the hotel and the both squabblers ( meanwhile Francis also began cussing)behind them.
Yes, the reason for the fight was easy.
Everyone, who had contact with the French, knew that he didn't miss a chance to share his bed with someone. For what ever reason England was his favorite „victim" and sometimes it seemed to Ludwig as if Arthur wasn't finding it too repellent.
Of course said English would never admit this, he had to keep his gentlemen image intact after all. Ludwig doubted, that it was going conform with the image of a gentleman to hang around with leacherous Frenchmen, who change their sex partner more often than their underwear.
The German was considering to leave too, when he saw Austria and Russia exiting the room.
Ivan was someone, noone was bent on messing with and it was not exactly intelligent to annoy him.
Today he had to sit next to the gigantic Russian and he the unusual feeling to be very small and slender...he didn't really disliked Ivan, but he was appreciating some distance between them.
France and England probably felt the same, he supposed, because they tried to at least slightly control themself, when Russia was with them.
Austria, had the unnerving habit to insult him with often contradicting and unfitting vituperations and always loved to show Ludwig how much he disliked the much younger relative, but they to some extend sane enough and both didn't like it when resources got wasted, which made working together with Roderich easy.
Also, the fact that Roderic was able to understand Ludwig's native tongue was a bit of a advantage in working quick and productive. Well...the German didn't really understood what Roderich was saying, but Austria knew how to understand German atleast. However...all in all there were less misunderstandings than in conversations in English in which both dialogue partners had learned it as a foreign language.
Without both of them there was neither someone who's pure presence intimidating enough to keep the squabbles quite nore someone who was able to understand his signals quick enough to help him saving the hotel lobby.
For a moment he was asking himself why he even felt responsible for this mess, but he suppressed the thought quickly. If he wouldn't try to solve the problem who would do it in his place?
The Nordics left already and you couldn't really hope to get help form the Italians, Spain or Greece.
Belgium would rather eat her own shoe than picking a fight with England or France and a part of the former Eastern block countries was rising their vodka glasses on surviving another meeting in presence of Russia. Meanwhile America was slouching on a couch guzzling popcorn and watching the spectacle in front of him.
Ludwig really didn't get why England was making such a fuss about the whole matter.
Everyone was able to see that he wasn't aversed by the thought of Francis sharing a room with him.
This was the reason for his outburst.
In hopes that someone would grant him asylum in their room and to maximise his own fun factor, Francis "forgot" to book a room.
To his chagrin, everyone he asked and tried to convince refused to let him sleep in their room.
England was the last one, he had asked. The Personification of Germany couldn't stop himself to believe, that Francis just asked everyone that came in question before, because he didn't want Arthur to refuse because of the fact that there were other possible beds, in which he could slip in.
Ludwig assumed, that the Kirkland also knew this, he was just too proud to show that he was happy to be with Francis and so had to make a scene in front of everyone.
France didn't even had the idea to ask Ludwig.
Blue eyes went cloudy by this thought. His eyebrows kissed each other above the nose and he grumbled quietly.
He knew, it wasn't the right moment to think about the fact that his favorite enemy and closest ally had someone he liked to fight and discuss even more than with him.
It was also quiet contra productive to get angry right now, just because he felt ignored.
There were only very few things he hated more than being ignored by his western neighbour.
The old longing for acceptance, the old wreath surged up within him for a few second until he was able to get control about his facial expressions again.
Cautiously he looked around if one of the remaining nations so him losing his clam, but noone seemed to pay attention to him or the fight of the disputants.
After getting up from the black leather armchair a bit clumsily, he smoothed down his wrinkled suit and made a few steps in England's direction to take the bar stool out of his hands, which Arthur was wielding over his head like a oversized bludgeon from the stone ages.
Wasn't it okay for Ludwig to be allowed to be a bit selfish from time to time?
„Do you think it is gentlemanlike to throw around with furniture, Arthur?"
He tried to sound as objectively as possible and saw to his relief, that the English mans bushy eyebrows curves upwards in direction of his hairline and that the pugnacious hands fell relaxed to the man's sides.
Satisfied he felt Francis unhappy eyes staring at him.
„Instead of fight because of such a tiny organisatory problem, we should rather try to solve it." an almost invisible smile in his lips he looked his western neighbour in the face.
„It's okay for you to use my bed, Francis, if you want to. I reserved a room with a couch, since I didn't knew if my brother wanted to accompany me on this trip."
If looks could kill.
With his offer, he scuppered England's chance to finally say yes after loads of protest and, charitable like real gentleman should be, take the French in.
Francis seemed to be a bit disappointed too, but neither him nor England were in the position in which they could allow themself to refuse and lose their face in front of the remaining nations, who looked curiously at them because of the sudden stop of fighting.
Ludwig tried to appear businesslike and cold.
He was distinctly aware of the fact, that the other nation assumed him to be a but awkward when it came to emotional relations and feelings, so it was probably not a surprise for them that he apparently ignored the emotional dimensions of the fight and tried to solve it with a a purely organisational solution.
He didn't care what they thought. Actually it was quite convenient for him, that they thought of him as incapable to understand emotional subtexts and relations.
„Great! Now I don't need to endure the presence of this frog-eating twat anymore!" Arthur hissed and stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him.
Francis' eyes followed him with a melancholic expression before he failed to disguise the ironical undertone in courtesy when he murmured a silent „Merci, Ludwig."
The German suppressed the triumphant grin that wanted to flash over his face and answered politely in his best French.
„De rien, Francis."