'Good luck, mein freund,' he said with a surprisingly easy smile and equally surprising truthfulness. It was all he could do to keep from laughing at the 'Herr Sassafras' comment- Romano in his so-called Shitstorm Mode probably wouldn't appreciate that.

But he seized the live grenade from Romano's mouth and flung it far away in plenty of time, throwing himself to the ground with his arm around the Italian's shoulders to drag the spitting and cursing man down with him just in case it wasn't far enough. Romano's forlorn expression as he sat up and surveyed the new crater in Spain's back yard made him smile, too. 'Cheer up, mein freund,' he said, and chucked the man under the chin just like a laughing Prussia had done to him when he was small and 'so serious, Luddy!' 'There's always next time.'

Of course, Romano began to bawl and curse a mile a minute about potatoes and Veneziano and Turkey and pasta prices so Ludwig patted him on the back, turned him to face the tomato gardens (into which he crawled, still crying, though the sound of sobbing were quickly overtaken by sounds of munching- Ludwig's book had stated, apparently correctly, that Italians are great comfort eaters) and strode off whistling, thinking he might pick up some of Gilbert's favourite sangria before he left Spain. His doctor was always after him to eat more fruit.

/

'Germany, Germany! There was a noise outside my window so I got my gun like you told me to but it made the scary noise again and it startled me so I dropped my gun out the window and I think it's England coming to take me back to his prison and his blood pudding so you have to help meee!'

Ludwig groaned, holding the phone away from his ear. 'England has nothing to do with you anymore. It was probably just an owl. Go back to bed, Italy.'

'Veh, but what if it was big brother France, come to kidnap me again? Or big mean scary Turkey? Or the ghost who lives above America? Waaaah, I don't want to die! Germany, you have to come help me!'

Ludwig considered thumping his head against the wall behind him, but decided it would only make his headache worse. 'France and Turkey have nothing to do with you either. And...'

'Hey, West, look!' Prussia struck a heroic pose and held aloft a glass bottle. 'Canada sent me more awesome maple syrup! You'll make pancakes for my awesome breakfast now, ok?'

'...Canada has no interest in an annex. Tell your brother to chase the owl away for you and go back to sleep.' Romano would probably swear and throw tomatoes at the poor thing. At least it would leave and he could get some sleep.

'But I can't, Romano isn't here! Germanyyy!'

Ludwig gave in to temptation and banged his head a couple of times back against the wall. Of all the nights for Romano to go out...probably with a stunning caramel-skinned, chocolate-eyed Italian woman in a low red dress and scarlet stilettos. They'd be sipping finely made martinis at the bar right now, Romano's hair hanging a little in his eyes and her cheeks charmingly flushed from the exhilarating tango they'd just performed, because naturally Romano's chosen restaurant would have a classic dance floor and live Spanish band along with perfect veal cutlets and the very best of wines. Right at this moment, Romano was probably murmuring those seductive lines he pulled from the air in his practised rich, deep voice, his fingers lightly stroking the back of her hand- while he, Ludwig, was woken up from an early night's sleep to deal with the annoying younger brother. This, as he would have whinged if he were the type to whinge and complain, was so completely unfair. 'Can't you call him? Maybe he can stop by home before he continues his date.'

'But he's not on a date, veh! He's out doing some scary Mafioso stuff and I don't know when he'll be back. And when he does he'll probably be scarier than Mr England, veh!'

Ludwig sat up, rubbing the sand from his eyes. 'What is Romano doing with the Italian mafia?'

'Well, he is the godfather, you know! And he said some of the families are thinking that with the economy going down the way it is this would be a good time to ignore fratello and take over government like he told them not to, veh! So I think Romano had to go show them he's still a strong boss, like big brother Spain except with a gun instead of an axe and less turtles.'

Ludwig considered. Romano was normally a coward, but he also wasn't the mafia leader without reason. Then again, the falling economy had to be leaving him weak. 'What would he have to do to stay on top in the mafia, Italy?' he asked curiously.

'Oh, I don't know. He'll probably shoot some people and get shot at and scream curses a lot. He always tells me to shut up when he comes home all bloody. It makes such a mess on the carpets. Germanyyy! It made the scary noise again!'

Ludwig sighed, threw back his blankets, and combed back his hair with his hands. 'I'll be there soon.'