Chapter 2: A Country Courting

Another two days passed before their paths crossed again. At least the weather had improved by then - it was overcast but bright and relatively dry. That evening, after yet another full day of corporation interviews, England found himself craving a warm, filling dinner and a pint.

As he bustled about, tidying up his documents and desk, his thoughts wandered from filling his stomach to the young woman that chance (and a subpar mapping app) had delivered to his doorstep. He had found that his mind tended to linger on the memory of her most often when he had those few moments of peace in his day. And inevitably his eyes would fall upon the top left drawer of his desk.

Strictly speaking, he should've destroyed the form Raven had filled out immediately after she left. There was no reason to keep it; she was not a corporation and a quick government records search revealed that she wasn't a citizen or permanent resident yet either. In fact, given that she'd wandered into a government building, a more suspicious country might've launched a detailed investigation into her entire history. But for whatever reason, he couldn't bring himself to put the paper and her information through the shredder.

Of course he hadn't expected it to be such a temptation. To his dismay, his mind was eternally inventing semi-plausible reasons why he should give Raven a ring. Everything from a polite chat about how her publishing interview had gone, to a stern request for her presence at an inquiry about her unauthorized entry into a restricted government building.

But each time he mercilessly reminded himself that she had undoubtedly long since forgotten him and their encounter. It was usually a crushing blow to his mood but it was better for him to be honest with himself rather than living in a delusion. So, after staring at the drawer as his mind drew up another idea, he ruthlessly quashed it and seized his briefcase to storm out the door.

But as his fingers touched the well-worn leather, a shriek split the air. England flinched and his gaze shot to his desk phone (the source of the obnoxious noise). For a moment he considered not answering but anyone calling his landline was likely calling for an important reason. It might even be his boss.

So he lifted the receiver and answered politely. "Hello, this is Arthur Kirkland speaking."

"Hi Mister Arthur Kirkland!" said a bubbly voice on the other end.

It was one he immediately recognized. "Raven!" he blurted out.

"That's me!" She laughed delightedly. "I can't believe you remember me!"

"That's my line," England replied in a more composed voice. Inside though he was reeling - Miss Waters had remembered him!

"I actually meant to call yesterday," she continued on as he struggled with his composure, "but I got a little distracted."

"No, it's quite all right. Though I must ask, how did you get this number?"

"Epic sleuthing!" she declared but her laugh told him that she was joking. "No, I actually just grabbed one of your business cards while I was there."

England glanced at the holder on his desk with mild amazement. He hadn't even noticed that she'd taken one.

"Well then… To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"

"Oh, right! I just wanted to call to say I'm sorry again for barging in the other day. I hope that it didn't cause any problems."

"Think nothing of it, miss."

"I also wanted to say thanks again for the directions! I found Jolly Badger Publishing with no problem!"

"Marvelous. I trust your interview went well?"

Raven let out another hearty laugh. "Oh no, they turned me down as soon as I got there because I was so late."

Immediately England was consumed by shock and dismay in successive waves. "I-I'm terribly sorry to hear that."

"It's fine," she replied without losing the happy note in her voice, "I had a different interview yesterday and they loved me so it all worked out!"

"Jolly good!" It was such a relief to him that the mishap hadn't cost her any employment. Then he was struck by an idea. "Perhaps I could treat you to a congratulatory lunch tomorrow to celebrate your success? There's a delightful café not far from my office. It's only French food but the pastries are quite good."

"Sure, that'd be great!"

He told her the name of the café and how to reach it from his office. Then, after agreeing to meet just before noon the next day, they hung up and England made to leave feeling a great deal happier than before.

The weather on the following day was much the same - the brilliant sun looked down on the city of London through a veil of clouds, but it was warm and dry. A bit of a breeze had picked up making skirts and tablecloths flutter restlessly.

Waiting nervously in front of Le Petit Café, England fiddled with the bouquet of flowers he held. After leaving his office the previous day he'd hurried to a flower shop to get a gift for Miss Waters. It'd taken him nearly two hours to decide, much to the irritation of the shop owner, but at last he decided on a small bunch of daisies.

His decision had been slow because he had to take into account the language of flowers. Though few people nowadays knew the hidden meanings of flowers, England himself had long been an expert. It simply wouldn't do for him to gift an inappropriate bunch to a young woman, especially one he'd only just met. On the off-chance that she knew the meaning of flowers like foxglove - insecurity - or marigold - pain and grief - he had to choose very carefully.

Daisies were innocuous enough to give to an acquaintance. As a symbol for innocence and cheer, they were well-suited for her. The flower had also featured in Hamlet and he was secretly hopeful that she might know the classic. After all, she was a writer.

An old worry still nagged at him though. Perhaps it'd been a fluke that the bubbly girl had remembered him. Wouldn't he look the fool if he was left standing for hours in front of this ridiculous French café!

Grumbling to himself about how he'd never live it down if any other countries saw him like this, England almost didn't see her. He only spotted her as she stepped off the street and up onto the curb - clearly she'd just jaywalked between the passing cars. It was like Americans had no fear of death or dismemberment!

But seeing her practically skipping towards him with a brilliant smile and a lovely pastel dress, he was inclined to forgive her. She dodged nimbly through the crowds as she had through the traffic until she was within talking distance.

"Hi again Mister Arthur Kirkland!"

The volume of her call was a little over the top and it made him wince. But her intentions were good and her smile really brightened his day.

He smiled back at her. "Lovely to see you again, Miss Waters."

"Lovely indeed," she giggled. "So, this is the place?"

"Yes, this is the café."

"Oh! Why were you standing outside then? You could've gone in and grabbed us a seat. I thought maybe I was late or something."

"No, not at all! I…" Honestly he'd been so wrapped up in thinking about why two American citizens but none of his own were able to notice personified countries it hadn't even occurred to him to get a table.

"Oh!" she suddenly chirped. She'd spotted the daisy bouquet. "How pretty!"

"Yes," England said as he fumbled with the flowers. "It's just a small gift to celebrate your success. I wasn't sure if you would like daisies but -"

"Are you kidding? I love daisies!" She took the bunch from his sweaty palm and gave it an eager sniff. "They're very happy flowers, aren't they?"

"Yes, quite. Then shall we?"

"Yeah, I'm starving!"

"Wonderful. This is one of the finest cafés in London. It's very highly rated and -"

"Angleterre~!"

Raven watched with interest as Arthur's expression transformed from proud to horrified in a flash. She turned in the direction the shout had come from, wondering who on earth could disconcert the Englishman so. She absently noted his apprehensive gasp but quickly forgot at the sight she beheld.

A tall, blonde person was skipping towards her and Arthur. At first glance they appeared to be a woman with long hair but a second look told her that it was a man. Most women didn't have chest hair and chin stubble.

Strangely, as she studied his features, an entirely different image appeared inside her mind. Beneath a wide-open sunny sky a field of wheat shimmered golden. The heads of the stalks were bowed and heavy with the grains, ripe for harvest. The wind was a gentle caress, scented with the earthy smell of light rain and the strains of a song floated past like leaves in a river.

Then a shiver ran down Raven's spine and the vision vanished. Feeling a little disconcerted she glanced around at the city surroundings - no wheat fields here.

As Mister Kirkland and the new gentleman exchanged words, she mused over the scene she'd just witnessed. It wasn't at all strange for her to have such things happen - a writer's mind was eternally generating ideas, much in the way that trees grew leaves every spring. But it was rare for them to be so vividly clear. Perhaps it was a sign of an impending story idea! If so, she would just need to wait for it to develop into a less abstract form that she could put into words.

Satisfied that Raven was absorbed in thought, and more than a little relieved that she hadn't had some sort of panic attack, England confronted France in a fury. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?!" he hissed with the fiercest scowl he could muster.

"Don't be like zhat, mon lapin," France cooed in exactly the way he knew England hated most. "You know zhat your breast swells with delight whenever I am near!"

"My 'breast' does nothing of the sort!"

"Zhe more you deny it, zhe more I know it to be true~."

"I'd rather have the plague here in my capital than you!"

France reached out and affectionately pinched England's cheek. "You're so cute when you're mad~."

England slapped the other nation's hand away with a hiss. "Keep your froggy hands off me!"

France chuckled and then he took note of a young woman partially concealed behind England. She seemed to be lost in thought, staring off into the distance with unfocused eyes. But a heartbeat after he acknowledged her presence, she came back to herself and looked right at him.

France, as the country of l'amour, quickly took charge of the introductions. "Enchanté, mademoiselle," he purred, shoving England to one side. He took her hand and gently pressed his lips to it, smirking as a smile and a blush spread across her face.

"Bonjour monsieur," she replied - to France's expert ear her American accent was obvious despite the correct pronunciations. "Umm… Rats, I'm sure I know this…"

"Fret not, ma cherie! I would be delighted to review with you - say, tonight over drinks~?"

"Huh?" Raven said in surprise. She looked up at France's coy expression, not quite sure what he was talking about.

Then it happened again. It felt like she was physically whisked away at light speed and dropped into another land.

She was standing atop a tall tower lit with long strings of lights, looking out across a city nightscape. The dark sky overhead was nearly devoid of stars - they had all fallen down to the ground. Building windows all across the city glowed brightly, as did the headlights and taillights of cars. They made a red and white river that weaved among the tall structures endlessly.

All this spread out below her like a web of diamonds. It was perhaps the most beautiful and romantic sight she'd ever seen! And familiar - the wide, straight lanes below her all converging on a single spot in the city reminded her of somewhere…

The dream or vision or whatever it was suddenly dissolved and Raven was again in the heart of London at noon.

Her hand had dropped - Arthur was dragging the French man away from her, talking very angrily in low whispers. Something about suppressing his aura and not spoiling a good thing. He briefly spared a glance for Raven and explained that he just needed a moment to talk to his "friend".

"Okay…" Raven said absently. She was again absorbed in thought over the new mental image she'd received. What sort of story could be brewing?!

England dragged a protesting France around the nearest corner and shook him wildly. "Bloody 'ell, Frog! Can't you take the hint and go back to your own house?!"

"Ohonhonhonhon, so zhat's how it is~," France chortled. "Who would've thought zhat my darling little stick-in-the-mud would've found a warm, beating 'eart after all zhese years?"

"S-Shut up! It's nothing like that!" England stammered. "I'm just trying to have a pleasant lunch with a young lady and I don't need you and your national presence scaring her off!"

"Oh, mon amie, it seems you need glasses! She did not appear frightened to moi."

Then a cat-like grin spread across France's face. "I wonder, mon amie… Could it be zhat you have managed to find your own Ava?"

"D-D-Don't be ridiculous! Raven is nothing like Ava, and even if she was it would just be a fluke! I just find her company to be more enjoyable than that of most countries, which is why I invited her to a modest lunch today!"

"Ohonhonhonhon, you are blushing bright red, mon lapin!"

"Shut up and go pester your own citizens, you blasted frog!"

With that England left France standing there and turned the corner back towards the café entrance where Raven was waiting. France paused to watch him go before placing a thoughtful hand on his chin and smiling to himself.