While meetings were usually rambunctious and filled to the brim with fighting and the occasional food war, this one in particular was nothing but silent and dreary. Even the louder parts of the world were uncharacteristically silent, certain lessons in reading the mood weren't being put to waste. Fights between neighbouring countries in Europe were silenced as well, a rarity when it came down to England and France. While common idiocy was frowned upon, within the awkward and tense walls of this particular gathering it was almost wished for. The loud heroic shouting and the ramblings of different pasta were absent, though even Germany wished for that change. Italian curses, giant world-saving robots, shouts of peace and pasta, the faintest "maple", the threat of a wok, black sheep and frogs - all the usual in any ordinary meet that the representatives were forced to attend. With tensions high and silence similar to that of a white-room, everybody wanted to break the uncomfortable haze of quiet, though nobody was brave enough to bring forth the chaos.
The explosion of thunder against glass giants startled the nations out of their silence-induced stupor. While Northern Italy or America would usually break such tensions, their not-so-witty remarks were out-shone by the looming threat of breaking the chain that had held its captives unable to speak. The nation whom possessed enough guts and had no care for insults would surpass this bout of unease, freeing their fellow nations from the grasp of world affairs.
"Anyone gonna say anything? Or should we just do the rest tomorrow? 'Cus I could really go for a bite to eat right about now."
To keep up the facade, yelling and loud conversations started up, each distinct nation ending their chatter with approval and a silent thanks to the uncharacteristically silent American nation. As if he were ignoring the other's idle talk, America had simply left the room, the heavy doors closing to the tune of the New York rain. Only few nations took note of the boisterous nation's hasty leave, only one thick-browed Englishman taking the opportunity to follow.
Contrary to popular belief, America wasn't so lucky, in both weather and overall wellbeing, and the Big Apple wasn't known for warm weather - decent weather, for that matter, and the storm that had made its way over the state was unexpected. That left America with limited options: wait for a country who had an umbrella, sprint like hell until he found his hotel, or just hide out in the building until the rain cleared.
Weighing the options - fat - and coming to a decision, he zippered up his jacket and prepared for a long sprint, Canada mimicking his idea and using his bear as a mean of protection from the rain.
Running out of breath after a few blocks, his footsteps lightened and were nothing but a quick pace, rain soaking his hair and shoes. Giving a quick glance at those who shoved others in an escape from the rain, his feet continued forward, unaware that they had stopped in the first place. A sharp shout alerted him to the companion at his side.
"Alfred, you dolt! Where's your brolly?" his voice attempted to cut through the howling of the wind against pillars of steel and the only response it had received was a shrug and a mumble.
"Don't have it."
"Care to share mine? I can't have you ill at the meeting tomorrow." Thick brows curled in concern, his instinct as a brother-like figure kicking in for the first time in months.
"Sure, but I've only got a few blocks to go anyway."
The slightly shorter nation made way for the American, lifting the only means of protection against the rain so his head wouldn't hit it with every step. Tired of the sound of raindrops, England attempted to begin a conversation with the younger nation, "So, Alfred, why are you walking so far?"
"It's where my apartment is, and there's a McDonald's nearby!"
"Why not get anything closer?"
"It's cheaper that way and I already owe China a lot, I don't think I need to add more."
"If you are so worried about your debt, why pay for everyone's visit?"
"It's what a hero would do!"
"Sure, and what are the costs?"
"Probably one-hundred grand… It sounds like more than it is, though."
"That much? All for two bloody days?"
"Yeah, but no worries! Your bills are paid too!"
"Alfred, you dolt. You don't need to pay for my visit."
"It's alright, bro! Oh, isn't that your place?"
"You're sure that you don't want me to walk you? I don't mind."
"Yeah, dude! I'm good! I'll see ya tomorrow, Iggy! Have a good night!"
Looking at the retreating back of the soaked nation he had cared for, England felt the slightest pang in his heart, concern filling his head like a fog on the roads. He watched the white fifty disappear into the crowd before fetching the key from his pocket and opening the door to finally escape the wind and storm.
Few personifications were ever early, and those who were had usually drowned themselves in coffee and the occasional beer or cola. Even fewer tidied up anything, but this week was nothing but a surprise to them all. Under the realization that arriving earlier would result in a quicker end, many attendants had decided to come as quick as the walk and traffic would allow.
Eventually, those who were supposed to be there, and those who weren't had made themselves to a seat, ready to begin another day of presentations in another day of bad weather and decisions.
Just as role-call was about to be made, a close flash of lightning and a roar of thunder shook the building at its core, the bright flash leaving the tousled nations with darkness crowding their vision.
"It's alright, young ones. We are here to help."