"I think I'm in love, Alice ..." Arthur kept his head down, staring at his feet.

"What? With who ... ? Oh!" she giggled excitedly, taking his arm and shaking it. "Who! Tell me! I'll give you all sorts of advice with that, Arthur! I just have to see my counterpart getting a date with someone!"

"Look, I'm just in love with someone, okay, Alice? You don't really need to know who it is ..." a pink tinge showed up in his cheeks. He gave a heavy, tired sigh and looked at the other who was now frowning slightly.

It was evening time. The personifications of England were well tired from paperwork and other things that were tiresome. They were at their porch, just standing, looking at their front garden which now fully blossomed with flowers and their trees fully grown with its lush green leaves.

"What time is it?" Arthur now looked up and he was looking at Alice.

"It's nearly half past nine, Arthur ... Would you like to go in now?"

He waved his hand impatiently. "No, would you mind turning the kettle on?"

She nodded and went to walk away but she stopped and turned her head to him. "Is it a boy or a girl?"

He scowled at her question and sat down on a wooden chair, glaring at her. "It's a girl, obviously, Alice!" he muttered angrily at her.

She smiled to herself and walked off, turning the kettle on and preparing the tea. She knew the evening routine. The time would vary but it was all the same. She would put on the kettle, he would read a book. When the kettle whistled loudly and stopped boiling, he would get up and get the biscuit tin, pick out some of his favourite biscuits and hers, put it on a plate and take the plate with him back to the porch, reading his book again. Then while he did that, Alice would make the tea. Milk for both of them. Three lumps for both of them.

She walked back with the two mugs in her hands and handed one to him. "Thank you, Alice."

"You're welcome, Arthur," she sat down beside him and looked at him not taking her eyes off. "Her name?"

"Can't tell you," he muttered eating a custard-cream biscuit.

"Fine. Shall I tell you who I like?"

"Whatever ... "

"I like Antonio, Arthur."

His heart stopped beating the moment she said 'Antonio'. He eyed her suddenly to check if she was giggling and joking, but no. She meant this. She did like Spain. He observed her a bit more.

'This isn't right. She hasn't shown any interest in him at all. She must be lying.' He held her hand and rubbed his thumb against her palm with pretend affection, smiling softly at her. He neared his thumb to her pulse on her arm. The heart rate was normal. 'She does like him ...' He suddenly took his hand off hers and stood up quickly, dusting himself. "Right. I'm off to bed." he walked away with his mug and went upstairs slowly.

'She likes ... The Spaniard. Well. That is just great. She doesn't even know much about him! So, if they get into a relationship, they won't last long... Oh, Arthur... Just shut up! You don't even know if the Spaniard likes her! Why are you even worrying?! It doesn't matter. She's just your counterpart. She's not really you, Arthur. She's not a clone of you, she's ... I said it before... Counterpart.'

He didn't notice Alice's reaction when he observed her. She was taken aback, he was staring intently at her. Her eyes, her mouth, her ... Her anything that would show emotion or movement. She knew what he was doing. She watched too much Sherlock to know where this was going. He was checking if she was lying. But he failed, so he went upstairs, disappointed. She was still there, sitting, holding the mug. The tea had gone cold. She didn't seem to want to drink it anymore. She just wanted to think why did she lie to him and why did her body lie?

And to the conclusion of her falsely crushing on Spain, it made Arthur miserable for he loved Alice Kirkland, the female personification of England.