Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia. NorFem!Fra.
When she, in a slightly small tone, asked how she looked, the only compliment he could honestly give her was one word. Just one. 'Beautiful.' And it was nothing less than the truth, because even in a wet dress and with wet hair, even with some of the make up running, she looked beautiful to him.
Not that it stopped him from escorting her to the bathroom, because as much as he thought she was beautiful, he knew full well that her opinion would be different. And her opinion was what mattered, wasn't it? That she was comfortable with herself? He thought so.
While he probably should have continued on, should've alerted her friends that she'd arrived, he found himself waiting outside the bathroom for her return, offering up an arm when she came out, hair and dress dry enough, make up fixed and still looking stunningly beautiful.
The French woman had somehow grown on him and he didn't mind, couldn't mind, because he enjoyed her company. It was amusing, comfortable, Norway couldn't help but wonder why England thought her to be annoying, she seemed to be anything but annoying with him. Yes, France had really grown on him and it didn't seem like she'd be leaving anytime soon.
He didn't at all mind.