Hotels. Arthur would never get used to them. They had an odd feeling about them that was unsettling. Maybe he was just paranoid.

All the same, he felt remarkably more relaxed when he flopped onto the bed in the hotel than he had for a few weeks back home- even with his ankle chafing.

The World Meeting was to be held in America, and in all honesty, England would rather have been stuck in France. Maybe he was just bitter.

He was most definitely just bitter, but he'd be damned if he admitted that to himself, or anyone else. He supposed there was a lot of things he wouldn't admit. Which brought his attention back to his ankle.

The Brit sat up, huffing and pulling up his pant leg to reveal the device around his ankle. He scowled at it.

"You could've made it more comfortable you know." He growled, pulling the small microphone off of his shirt collar.

"You lot are bastards, and I hope you remember that."

He could practically hear them glaring. Arthur gave an annoyed huff before attaching the microphone back to his shirt, making sure it was hidden before falling back and laying down, staring at the ceiling.

He jumped at a loud banging on his door.

"YOOOO IGGY!"

Oh for fucks sakes…

The Brit pulled himself to his feet, stalking over to the door and whipping it open.

"Yell any louder the entire bloody country will hear you!" He scowled at the American, who just grinned back.

"You really think so? Man, that would be so cool! I wouldn't even have to call-"

"Yes yes, we get it. What do you want?"

America gave a small pout at being interrupted, but went back to grinning and pushed his way into the room.

"I just wanted to see you man! You went and disappeared for a while there!" Alfred flopped down on the bed, much to Arthur's annoyance.

"I was just busy. I don't see how it's any of your business." Arthur shot him a glare, sitting in the chair in the room and crossing his legs at the knee. His pant leg rode up enough to reveal the device, but he only noticed when America spotted it.

"Dude, what's that!? It looks like one of those crazy tracker things from TV!"

Arthur scowled, pulling his pant leg over it and quickly thinking of some sort of excuse.

"Yes, it tracks how many steps you take." The Brit crossed his arms over his chest and watched the American narrow his gaze in suspicion. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Francis told us about all that crap at your house. What's up with that?"

"Just some extra security measures. I had a few break-ins a few weeks ago."

Alfred raised an eyebrow, obviously not believing him.

"Dude. That's ridiculous. He said you had people following you, and that you didn't seem to have a key to your house or anything!"

Arthur hesitated. ".. Facial recognition."

"Hah! You hesitated!" The American jumped to his feet, pointing a finger at the Brit.

"What are you hiding! Come on man, spill!"

England scowled for a few moments before adjusting his shirt to show the microphone. America froze, eyes growing wide and arm slowly lowering. Arthur adjusted his shirt again, shaking his head with a small sigh. Neither nation said anything for a few minutes.

"Well, uhm… 'Suppose I should let you get some rest. I'm sure you're tired from the whole, plane trip thing…" Alfred rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a frown, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, that would be best. Thank you for stopping by."

And with that, America got up and left the room- only to send out a text to the nations about his new discovery: excluding England himself, of course.

England sighed heavily, standing and moving back onto the bed. This was going to be difficult.