47. Summer
Germany pulled at his collar irritably, the humid heat of Rome making him wish he hadn't given in to pleading eyes and pouting lips.
"What?" He asked a bit annoyed at yet another sideways glance from his brown-haired companion.
His ally grinned and dragged Germany away without an explanation until they reached a small cart where he began speaking in rapid Italian.
"Here!" His companion placed a cold cup of bright red ice shavings in his hand. Germany gave him an strange look.
He just grinned. "Don't you know? Gelato tastes best in the summer."
"Thanks...Italy."