All right... This took too long to publish. I've had it written for a while, but didn't want to publish it, as not much is happening, and it's basically a transition to a more eventful part of the story... Not much was planned to happen here, anyhow, but I just wanted a bit of humour before the plot starts to thicken. Strange things will start to happen after this. Besides... I thought I'd published it two months ago. D: *runs away and hides under desk* ~
"Ahahahahaha!" Mathias cackled at the dumbstruck expressions of the others, much to their annoyance. "I GOTCHAAAA!"
He clutched his stomach in hilarity as he continued to guffaw noisily at the faces of his fellow Nordics. "You- you guys- are-ahehehe-ridiculous." Straightening himself and regaining as much composure as was ever allotted to someone with his character, Mathias glanced around the bar to see his raucous din had called the attention of most everyone within. "Hej," he waved with a goofy grin at the stony-faced bartender. He's used to me.
"...So," Tino broke the awkward silence uncertainly, "how are we supposed to interpret this, Ber? I don't really understand why you got us together."
"I think he's got a sense of humour," Mathias interjected, but filled his mouth with beer instead when Lukas shot him an icy glare.
"I don't understand, either," Emil admitted in support of Tino. "Care to explain?"
Berwald nodded and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "I don't know who sent 't," he said, "but 't isn't handwriting I rec'gnise."
Lukas said naught as he leant in once more to cautiously examine the paper. "I'd say we disregard it, but keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. I'm getting a strange feeling about this."
"Fair enough," Tino shrugged. "So, what now?"
"I say we all get drunk," Mathias cut in casually. "After all, this is a bar..."
"Hnnnh..." Berwald grumbled, "...I can't feel m' feet..."
"Me neither..." echoed a dazed Tino.
"Ahahahaha... ahahahaha... ahehehehe..." Mathias chuckled tipsily. "...You guys..."
Lukas and Emil had fallen into a silent stupor of sorts, and even Emil's puffin seemed wasted. "Rrrrr..." it gurgled drowsily, and its owner stroked its slick black plumes absently.
"Hey," Mathias piped up suddenly, "You guys wanna hear a joke?"
Frowning slightly, Lukas shook his head. "...Not really."
"Well, too bad. 'Cause I'm gonna tell it anyways. AHEHEHEHEHEHE..." the Dane cackled deviously.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
Mathias's eyes shone mischievously as he started. "So, what's the difference between a Swede and a mosquito?"
Thwack.
"HEY!" Mathias rubbed the side of his head as he howled at Berwald. "I didn't even get to the GOOD part..."
Berwald's glasses glinted sinisterly in the light. "I know th' answ'r t' that," he growled. "That wasn't appreciated."
Sulking, the drunk Dane slouched in his seat and glared sullenly at the Swede.
"Well," Tino started, "it's late... And since there's nothing else we can do, I suggest we go home..."
"Good idea," Emil nodded.
And each Nordic headed to his own home... With the exception of Mathias, who chose to linger at the bar into the wee hours of the morning.
