There was something about sightseeing that clicked with Sadik, as strange as it would sound to anyone who knew of his personality just as well as the average country. He was worldly. Naive; in a congenial sense, but being toured around a town would be just as enjoyable as touring someone around, stranger and friend alike. Although currently the Turk had resorted to touring himself around. In a bustling downtown it was less sightseeing and more people watching, which is always easier and less suspicious (in Sadik's opinion, at the least) to do so sitting with a slice of cake and a cup of coffee, a laptop in front of him if he was feeling picturesque.
He continued meandering through the streets nonetheless, eyeing each passing store with interest but hoping more for an empty park bench to sit on. Those things were great for idle conversation – were someone to sit down with him. (Never would he stoop so low as to sit with someone for conversation; he'd look like a creep.) In contrast to the masked man's usual stubborn moods, Sadik was going so far as to avert his eyes from the sidewalk in front of him in hopes of bumping into someone to keep his interest. Cliche, yes, but the Turk found simple romanticisms just as endearing as poetry. Not that they both weren't horribly cheesy.
It was a cute idea, but after walking half-sideways for nearly a minute Sadik grew frustrated, cursing the average person's coordination. The way people had their face's towards the ground staring at the screen of some technological device nowadays it was a wonder everyone wasn't just smashing into everything. It brought up the idea of echolocation or whatever it was where you could simply sense whatever surrounded you - the Turk's train of thought wasn't a most sensical one.
Another thirty seconds of exasperated sideways-walking and the smell of something good brought Sadik towards a prettied up, modern looking restaurant. If he was going to make the acquaintance of someone worthwhile in a fit-for-the-movies fashion it would have to be an alternative to his original idea. Not without an irritated sigh, Turkey straightened his direction and turned into the grotto's already opened entrance. Perhaps that was a marketing ploy, leave the door open to bring in whomever noted that palatable scent. An effective one, Sadik mused, before being greeted by what was most obviously a waitress.
She was pretty. Couldn't be said very enthusiastically, but the rounded face was quite cute. Small nose and big eyes, but thin lips. Could do with some lipstick too, and mascara. The Turk was rather picky when it came to someone's makeup. He himself liked a person dressing up, but it couldn't be either too little or too much. Though it was apparent that view was nearly the same with anyone else. He could only get so far as to note the bun in her hair – it was falling apart, but was a plus anyways – and the horrid stripy red shirt that appeared to be uniform for the restaurant's workers before he was distracted by the woman's voice echoing what she had said earlier, with a slightly less pleasant (or high) tone.
A pause and an awkward clearing of his throat,
"Fer one, yeah."
Clearly he was off to a good start.
There was a throng of available seats, and Sadik had an hour before the other countries (and people) starting piling downtown. More so than they already were, at least. Somehow he was able to easily steal away from the 'meeting' taking place – more of a meet-up than anything – to lay in bed until the late afternoon. Even though the meeting didn't actually start until noon, Sadik wasn't completely lying when he said he felt sick earlier that morning. A better wording would be that he felt like shit, but either way it was apparently a good enough excuse to stare at the hotel ceiling until approximately three thirty, at which point the Turk finally decided it would be justifiable to get off his ass and go downtown.
As for if he was caught; fuck it. The World Meeting was being held in Vancouver, and if anyone was going to be complaining it would be Canada himself. That of which was in no way intimidating, or even concerning for that matter. Unless of course his brother decided to but his ugly head in, and likewise with the Canadian's parents. Not that they were intimidating, just nearly as annoying as that damn Grecian. Which was nothing far from a spectacular feat in Turkey's books. He hadn't actually learnt any of that particular "family's" annoyances first hand, (not in this day and age, mind you) Sadik found just being anywhere near them was thoroughly mind-numbing, stacking up along with stories from other countries.
"Excuse me," That voice was growing familiar, the waitress must've resorted to the idea Sadik was just another crazy wandering the streets of a big city. "Can I get you a drink?"
"What would you suggest, love?" Subtle. Call her love. Sadik hadn't lost his touch of awkward, so it seemed.
An expression so vividly showcasing irritation and disgust came with the reply, and if the Turk wasn't accustomed to it he might've actually cared, but she wasn't pretty anyways.
Examining the abstract paintings, brick walls, and flicking the candle's flame sitting on the ledge beside him multiple times, Sadik cursed the blasphemous thing that was North American services. He'd already gotten a refill on the large glass of beer in front of him, and the only thing tempting him to refill it a third time was the fact that he could draw over the condensation.