Sjette mai:
France:
1889
-Powder? No powder? Francis, France, was undecided. He was very rarely unsure what to wear, or how to look, for anything, but now, for the World Fair that was to be held in sweet Paris, he was at loss.
He'd woken up at half past five, and spent hours on socks, shoes, waistcoats, trousers, jackets, gloves, hair, and now, finally, ten minutes before he'd to be on his way, he was debating what to do with his face.
He didn't need only to look his absolutely stunning best, but also better than all the other Nations who were visiting.
-Ah! It will be no powder. I don't have time for anything else.
Author's notes:
I don't own Hetalia