Surprise~ Update! But... this chapter is short... I am so sorry but it is. -laughs- Ah... Still, I am pleased I got some time to update much sooner than I thought!

America continues to look up at England in dumb wonder. He can't seem to compute that this man pointing a gun at his head is Arthur. It's not even so much just that he's pointing the pistol as the fact that he's doing it with such a cold expression.

A frown flickers on England's face. "Are you stupid boy? I expect a prompt answer!"

America gives him a blank look. "...What are you talking about?"

England unflinchingly smacks him across the face with the flintlock. America yelps and touches his cheek, left in a state of shock by the unexpected attack. "Were you sent by France or not?"

"...No... No! Why do you think I was sent by France? And you didn't have to hit me! That hurt, damn it!" America glares up at him.

England stares at him for a long moment, calculating, considering. "Say 'parlez-vous français' for me."

While England hadn't pulled that off flawlessly, America's French is far worse. Especially because he has made a point of not learning it to spite France. "Er...'par-lay-voo francey'?"

Another pause, those hard green eyes boring into him, then the flintlock is no longer pointed at his face. America lets out a sigh of relief. "I see. It seems there has been a mix up of some sort. I cannot tell you how much that displeases me. I wish to speak with you a while and determine how much I am obliged to apologize and the severity of my punishment for an unjustified assumption."

Boy that is a fancy way to say 'oops, fucked up!' Oh well, somehow America gets the feeling he is very lucky to no longer be the one on England's bad side. "Er... sure."

He stands, rubbing his cheek. There is no doubt in his mind that there is already the beginnings of a bruise there. With the flick of a finger England indicates for America to follow him to a back room. He runs back long enough to grab his stuff then follows, throwing a smug look at the men whose asses he had thoroughly kicked. They glower silently in return. Whatever, they are just jealous he is so amazing.

The back room is big enough for maybe five people at any given moment. The walls are bare except for a few maps hung up. They are cruder than he's used to seeing. A table sits in the middle, a couple of chairs pulled up to it. A plate of food sits in front of one as well as a tobacco pipe.

"Close the door would you?" America is pulled out of his thoughts and presses the door shut behind him.

England scrutinizes him and it's really rather kind of eerie. It makes him feel vulnerable. As he turns back around, England begins to circle him slowly. "What is your name?"

America stiffens uneasily. "Er, Alfred."

"Oh? Alfred what?"

Probably best not to give a last name. Too risky. "Just Alfred."

England pauses in front of him and meets his eyes. "And where did you get those clothes from 'just Alfred'?"

The question takes America off guard. "These clothes...? Wh-what makes you think they aren't mine?"

England raises an eyebrow. "You do not have the right attitude for someone who would dress like that. They don't suite you, I suppose. I have no doubt there is someone out there missing some clothes."

America winces. How can he tell? Damn... "Er..."

England abruptly closes the distance between them. He grabs America's chin and tilts his head a bit, carefully examining his face. He uses his thumb to lift America's lip. America jerks back. "Wh-what-?"

Without warning England presses his face to America's neck. America pulls away more insistently and England lets him go. "Where are you from just Alfred?"

America gives him a reproachful look. That had been really weird. "Oh you know... around."

"Mmm...You are certainly not from here. But I cannot put my finger on where you could be from... Your teeth are oddly healthy, judging from how you smell you actually bathe regularly, your skin is very good. No pock marks or scarring so you've never had any serious illnesses. You speak English well enough but you have a very strange accent I have never heard. You are certainly not French, you do not sound Germanic... or like you could be from the Nordic countries. Unless you were raised with English after speaking another language as a child and it has somehow created this odd accent?"

America is getting very nervous now. England sure can tell a lot without even trying. He swallows hard. "D-does it matter where I'm from?"

England smirks at him then shrugs. "I suppose not. I am merely curious as to where such an attractive specimen came from."

Attractive specimen? There must be more of a barrier in language than he thinks because there is no way England just called him that in the way it sounds.

England sits at the table and picks up the pipe. It is made of pale wood, smooth with a carefully carved design around the bowl. He takes a slow drag then releases the smoke from the side of his mouth. "Are you hungry just Alfred?"

Well, America can always go for food. "Maybe a little bit."

England pushes the plate across the table. It's some kind of meat. America sits down and examines it carefully, deciding if he wants to eat it or not. He finally gives it a try. Upon deeming it edible and not too bad he enthusiastically begins to eat. "Tell me just Alfred, why are you looking for me?"

America glances up at the vibrant eyes that watch him through a haze of smoke. "...I was hoping you could look at something for me. Tell me if there's... something special about it."

This seems to intrigue England and a spark of interest appears in his expression for the first time. "Something special?"

America nods. He pulls out the watch and places it in the center of the table. "Be careful with it."

He can't quite bring himself to say 'Or you might be sucked into the past.'

England reaches over the table and lifts it, studying it. "What is it?"

"A pocket watch." As if that isn't obvious.

England glances over at him. "A pocket watch? I admit I have never seen something like it. Where did it originate? Germany? Or perhaps Switzerland?"

Fuck, they didn't have pocket watches yet? Well how was he supposed to know that? Damn it! "Y-yes..."

England raises an eyebrow and sits back, letting it twirl slowly on its chain. He finally notices the clasp on the side and opens it. He runs a thumb over the face. "This is a beautiful piece of work. Extraordinary... As I said, I have never seen such a thing. I would think it goes without saying it is something special."

The smile he gives America is condescending and he obviously thinks him a simpleton or a fool at the very least. America frowns. "That's not what I meant specifically. I want to know if... if it..."

He sighs. This seems sort of pointless. Why won't the damn thing reveal its magical self already so that he doesn't have to say something stupid like 'Hur dur is it made of magic?'

"Tell me just Alfred, how did you come to think I could tell you anything about this that someone else couldn't, such as a tinkerer or some such thing?"

America scrambles for a reason. Why would he? "Er, well you are the representation of the... of the British Empire so I figured you would know just about anything."

England, amused more than flattered by the comment, snaps the watch closed. "Are you interested in selling?"

America looks up at him in alarm. "N-no! No, I need it!"

At least the thinks he probably needs it... Well, it's best not to get rid of it anyway.

England lets it dangle a while longer, taking another puff on his pipe. America watches him apprehensively, getting the distinct feeling he's considering keeping it anyway. God, he is such a bastard in the past! Who would have known?

England finally places it back in the center of the table. "Pity. Do let me know if you change your mind. It is a peculiar trinket."

America snatches it up quickly and tucks it safely away. England leans his chin on his hand, watching him lazily. "Sorry I could not be of more assistance. And I do apologize for my men earlier. They are fools. You handled yourself quite impressively against them, I must admit."

America feels a flash of pride popping up through the muddled confusion. "Oh it was nothing, they're not so tough!"

He laughs loudly then realizes maybe that might have sounded insulting. Not that it isn't true but he doesn't need a flintlock pointed at him again. Blowing another cloud of smoke, England stands and overturns the pipe on the now empty plate in front of America. He taps it then places it on the table. "I have a social meeting of sorts I must suffer with a...colleague, of mine."

There is a complete sneer of contempt in the word colleague. America tilts his head. "France?"

England nods once. "Unfortunately, yes. Where are you off to now just Alfred?"

He hadn't thought about that. Really, if England can't help him he is flat out of ideas. The thought makes him a bit miserable. He broods over the question. "I have no idea. Somewhere."

England rests a hand lightly on his shoulder. "I will be honest. You have captured my interest just Alfred. If you have nowhere in particular to go you should come with me. It will make my time with that fool more tolerable. I will pay for your food and drink as well should you choose to accompany me."

Well... it is kind of risky socializing with him and all... He really shouldn't. In fact the less time he spends with past England the better. But what else is he going to do, sit around on his ass waiting for the stupid watch to do something again? Might as well get something out of his time here. "Alright then."

England smiles. "Very well. Come along then."

He begins to walk like a man who takes for granted he will be followed without question. America scrambles to his feet, snatching up his bag and hurrying after him. England stops to exchange some quiet words with one of his men. Nothing pleasant from how pale he becomes. America challenges them to do or say anything to him with his eyes. None of them try. Well, not that they probably would with England there being so intimidating.

He really doesn't know what to think about this England. He's nothing like the one America is used to. He's so... confident, cool, arrogant. It's kind of impressive actually. He has the air of a man who has the world on a string. America can respect that. It's generally how he acts.

They emerge onto the street again. England doesn't seem in any particular hurry to get where they're going. "So...er...Captain Kirkland? Is that what I call you?"

England considers him. "Did you not ask for me as Arthur? I do not see the point going backwards in formalities. You might as well call me that."

America grins. Good. He would feel stupid calling him 'Captain Kirkland' anyway. "Sounds fine to me. You can call me Alfred then. The 'just' isn't necessary."

England smirks at him. "I see. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Alfred."

"And you Arthur." After a few minutes of silence America feels it necessary to make conversation. "So tell me... Why exactly are you meeting with France? You sound less than enthused and yet you seemed determined to kill me if he was backing out of it."

England throws an arm around America's shoulder and pulls him closer. "Well you know what they say. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, plunder the Spanish, and kill the Scots."

He cackles and smacks America's shoulder sharply, releasing him. America winces and laughs awkwardly. "Er...heh y-yeah."

What an asshole! It's mystifying. No wonder Scotland still bears a grudge against him. "So pretty much just a meeting to make sure he's in check?"

England nods after a moment. "Something like that. I like to know what that bastard is up to. Ignorance has never saved a man's life after all and if I ever hope to defeat him once and for all I should know where I stand at any given moment."

So there is to be very little social visit in this so much as measuring the other up. He wonders if France feels the same way about the whole thing. It will be interesting to see what France is like during this period. "You intend to conquer France?"

A dark, rather menacing look of amusement comes over England's face. "I intend to conquer the world, Alfred. In time. All in good time."

America stares straight ahead, keeping tight control over himself. It won't do to laugh. Of course he knows perfectly well England doesn't succeed. Though now that he thinks about it he guesses England had controlled about a third of the world for a while, himself included in that mix. And there is something about England's conviction here in this time that sends a shiver down his spine. He's glad that England softened by the time he met with him. Really, what a radical difference from the man he took pity on as a child. This one is kind of intimidating.

Not that he's afraid of him or anything. Nope, not him! That would be totally lame.

They stop in front of what looks like yet another pub. England scowls up at it. "So help me if he isn't here I'll..."

He mutters something under his breath and enters. America goes in with a shrug. England is looking around. He suddenly makes a sound of displeasure. "Of course."

America follows his gaze and spots France at a table towards the back, tucked away in a corner. He might be more inconspicuous if he didn't have two women giggling loudly with him, one sitting on his lap as he gropes her breast shamelessly.

Shaking his head with a look of pure disgust on his face, England starts towards them. "Come along. I warn you, that right there is as charming as he gets at any given moment."

Well, France seems to be a total horndog. It comforts America a bit. Some things never change he supposes.

AN: Oh France....You pervert.

During this time a tobacco pipe would have been more likely than a cigar.

This was still around the time England was hardcore fighting Scotland and... from my understanding kind of trying to wipe it out... (thus the joke in bad taste, which I apologize for immensely)

There were watches back then, mostly made in Switzerland and Germany, but they were usually worn around the neck. Pocket watches didn't start coming into use until ... um, mid/later 1700s I think?