Another man, one with big sky-blue eyes to match his big mouth, shoved the Frenchman out of the way in such a cartoony fashion she could only stare gaping as he slid across the long wooden floor. She felt her backpack and purse slip from her shoulders as she continued to stand in utter shock.
"Hey! You're American, right?"
She numbly nodded at the man, watching as he pushed up his glasses and brushed back a lock of dirty-blonde hair.
"Cool! Party with us!"
He grabbed her hands, dancing around with her energetically. She stumbled along with him until a different hand stilled her. Looking over her shoulder she encountered a shorter man with emerald green eyes set under absurdly bushy eyebrows of a darker color than his fine, blonde hair.
"You said you were lost?"
He spoke to her in a British accent.
"Yes, I boarded the wrong plane it seems. I was headed to Paris and I can't find the airport again…"
"I see…I'll arrange a car to take you there."
"Thank you!"
"What is your name?"
"Belle De Leo."
She was suddenly spun around, her hands grasped by a shorter man and her fingers entwined with his. He had half lidded brown eyes and spoke in a voice that sounded like his head was in the clouds, his brown hair framing his very out-of-it face.
"Your name is Italian!"
He said in an aloof Italian accent.
"Yes, my father was an Italian immigrant."
He looked like he was about to say more, but everyone was distracted by the return of the Frenchman, who was squared up to the American angrily. An argument broke out, the loud man stepped back and accidently bumping into Belle, knocking her off balance.
She fell sideways, turning just in time to slam into another one of the shorter men. Looking up she realized she was heavily invading the raven haired, brown eyed man's space. His face had turned a brilliant shade of red and he was tense, stammering out a garbled mix of English and Japanese words in his embarrassment as she realized she was pressed flush against his chest with her own.
She shoved herself backwards, blurting out an apology in Japanese as she tripped over her own feet in her haste.
Her potential fall was halted easy by a big warm hand on her right shoulder, its twin grasping her left hand and turning her momentum into a broad chest to keep her from toppling to the floor. She looked up slowly, her eyes scanning past muscled shoulders to the face of the final man in the room. He had a serious face and icy blue eyes, his fine blonde hair combed back into a simple yet oddly formal style compared to the others.
"Have you regained your balance?"
He spoke with a much softer voice than she expected, the words reverberating in a deep bass and very profound German accent.
"Yes, thank you…"
He released her hand and shoulder and she took a step back to a normal social distance.
"What brings you here?"
"I was planning on taking a tour of Europe-"
Once again she was knocked slightly off balance, this time by the Frenchman who was caressing her cheek and saying something about showing her around that was drowned out by the Englishman's angry yelling. She suddenly found herself being pulled and spun between the Frenchman, American, and the Italian as they argued over who was going to accompany her on her tour. Her eyebrows knitted in confusion as to why these men were so strange…she took this trip to study firsthand.
After a particularly dizzying roundabout with the Italian singing "Italiano! Italiano!" she felt her head grow foggy from the constant movement, and promptly fainted right there.
England pitched forward, catching the girls shoulders just in time to keep her head from smacking into the unforgiving wood floor.
"Great, now look what you three did."
France huffed and America seemed confused.
"Someone is going to have to take care of her until she wakes up, this is ridiculous."
That sparked a whole new argument engrossing France, England, and America, who were now telling each other all the reasons they couldn't tend to the cute unconscious woman. Italy was standing watching the whole ordeal with his head cocked to the side, contemplating.
Germany and Japan looked at each other. Japan nodded and Germany sighed, walking over to scoop Belle up off of the floor. He picked her up easily, looking down at her as her head lulled against his shoulder.
She was petite, probably about Italy's height or a little shorter with a slender frame. She had long, cascading wavy brown hair, and although they were closed now he recalled the almost crystal blue eyes he been looking into only moments ago. They reminded him of stained glass.
No wonder the others were fighting so much. Especially France.
He turned and walked out the door with her, Japan grabbing her luggage as he followed close behind.