America was cheering right in his younger brother's face.
Canada skated in circles, in frustration and disappointment.
He had lost… in his own sport. In his own country.
He glared at his brother's goalie.
If it weren't for him, his team would have dominated!
He left rink in rage.
Later on when they had a meeting, Canada still had a bitter feeling toward his brother.
"It's alright, mon ami… Remember, you're not on his level." France told him.
Calming down only slightly, Canada sighed.
"Maybe you're right… But I need to even the score since he won't stop bragging." he said.
And America WAS bragging. Standing on top of the podium, while he was at it.
That was when Canada marched up and pushed him off, taking the meeting under his control.
"You might have won that game, America, but that just proves one thing. You're people have too much time on their hands. You guys love that 'soccer' of yours so much but you've never won THAT have you? You just want to be able to do everything else to shove it back into everyone else's face that you're better!" he started.
America's mouth hung open and he slowly went into despair.
It was happening again.
The sweet, sweet Canada was going on his rant.
England sighed and dismissed the meeting.
If he wants to stop Canada before midnight, he better start trying to stop him now.