France nibbled on the end of his pen, pausing only in his writing to stare out of the window. Well, what else was there to say about England? That he got drunk a lot? That he saw fairies and unicorns?
..That he really was rather cute when he wasn't talking?
He smiled and shook his head, clearing it of such thoughts. He was a flirt, after all, and freely acknowledged that his thought process went the exact same way with pretty much anyone who was good-looking. But, therein lay the problem. Those other people usually thought highly of him in return, and so it was simple: A little flirting, then the power of suggestion being applied, and before his new fixation knew if, they were having the best night of their lives. Yet, somehow, he could not manage to win England over. If he even encroached upon the subject of love, he would receive a cold glare, and, if he was close enough, maybe a kick in the leg. Of course, that only really turned him on even more, but how was poor little virgin England to know that? The very notion that England could understand love made France smile.
Such irony.
He finished writing the letter to his friend, Belgium, and sealed it, intending to post it later. But, right now, according to his watch, it was time for the meeting! This meant hours of being stuck in a seat next to England...
He laughed.
"Bien!"
Oh, no... It was the Frog. The bloody flamboyant Frenchman who would always wink at him or blow kisses. Ugh...
England suspected that it would escalate into yet another fight. But, really, did old Frog-Face-France have to be so obnoxiously flirty? Although, England mused, there wasn't anything particularly froggy about him, apart from that he was French, and, being a gentleman, England tended to try hard not to stereotype.
He repressed a shudder as France slid into the seat next to him.
"Bonjour, mon cher," France muttered. Arthur felt strange chills go up his spine.
"Good day to you, too. Now, please tell me what the last part meant," England ground out. In reply, he got the Frog's characteristic laughter resounding through his head. One day, he was sure; it would give him the mother of all headaches.
America immediately jumped up to start the meeting with a cry of, "Dudes! We're all totally here and all, so this meeting can finally begin! Now, tell me your problems, so that I, the hero, may solve 'em."
England would never get used to that ridiculous attitude, or the equally absurd cowlick that America had. And then there was creepy Russia, who always had a smile on his cute face. Said smile was, in fact, terrifying. But, yet, he couldn't tear his thoughts away from the Frog for too long, which was worrying. But what self-respecting, normal man would go around in a bright blue coat and 'cloak', flirting with anything he thought was beautiful?
Ah, yes, France was not normal. He'd probably screw a rock if he thought it was beautiful enough. England dearly prayed that he would not undergo the same treatment as that rock.
