Sir Edward Elgar's symphony no.1 coloured the evening, inanimate shadows waltzed the large room as the flickering fire sprung the darkness in to song. England watched the performance in a leather armchair, sipping his tea. It was an unusually cold autumn evening, even for England, but in this tranquil corner everything subsided. England closed his eyes, letting the gentle violins ease him in to a peaceful rest.
Until the rapture called. England was torn from his blissfulness by four boisterous knocks on the door. He sighed and smoothed his uniform on the way to address the bombardment. Hand reaching out to the handle…
"England! Hey England!" More banging. England withdrew in horror.
"That damn Yank, what is he doing here?"
"England, c'mon man open up! I think it's gonna start raining out here in a minute!"
"He hasn't seen me yet, I can still escape."
"ENGLAND! I know you're in there, there's smoke coming from your chimney! Open the door, it's your buddy America!"
"ETTT MOOOIIII!" A secondary voice sung it's way through the mahogany.
"Oh Christ, not the Frog too!"
The banging hadn't ceased; in fact it had picked up ferocity.
England clenched his fists before regrettably, peeking the door open.
"What?! What is so important you need to be incessantly banging on my door at such an ungodly hour."
"Heyyyyyy buddy!" America grinned and forced the door open, barging his way through the entrance on his own welcome, France leaping in too. "What took you so long?"
"I was hoping you would give up." England muttered. "But no. No. You are not staying. Neither of you are welcome. So what is it you want so we can get you chaps home?"
America wasn't really paying attention, more distracted by the staggering high ceilings and Victorian architectural detailing, so different to his modern home. "OH! Yeah right, I brought a game! Come on in we're gonna play."
"No." England was still standing by the front door, in hope they would see the appeal. But America had already crossed the hall following the crescendo to its source.
"And I brought WINE!" France proudly producing a significantly large picnic basket.
"Nope. Nuh-uh. Not happening. I'm sorry gents if that's all then I must request your leave. I have a very busy evening ahead." He gestured enthusiastically to the door once again.
France rested his arm on top of England's head leaning on to him. "You think we are going to believe that sheet?" England shoved the man off in to the wall. Hard. And walked after America who had now found the living room. England's patience wearing thin.
America was staring at a spinning contraption and some sort of horn prodding it quizzically.
England sighed. "It's called a gramophone. It is very old please, it plays the records, see. You hear how rich that is. And it is very old so please stop poking it."
America had already lost interest and was skulking round the rest of the room, while France had sprawled out on the entire sofa making himself comfy.
"Oh, please make yourself at home." England glared at France.
"Sweet!" America beamed ignorant of the sarcasm sat on the floor pulling up a low coffee table and placing a board on top. "So it's called Forfeits! Basically we ask each other questions and if you get it wrong or pass you have to perform a forfeit! Oh! And you only get one pass each in the whole game, and it's the first to get to 100 by rolling the dice!"
"I don't like the sound of that."
France laughed. "Ahhh, you scared little England?"
"I'm not scared! Isn't that more your area?" England sneered at the man who had already uncorked his first bottle of wine.
America grinned at them. "It's ok if you're scared man! I mean I would be if I was you and had to play against me. Hell maybe I should sit out and just watch you to because it's hardly fair when it's so obvious I'm going to win!"
England growled and thrust his armchair so it faced towards the table, throwing himself in it with folded limbs. They weren't going to leave so he'll just have to make this go as quick as possible. "Fine! Let's just get this over with. Shut up and roll."
"OKAY!"