Chapter 4! The first real character interaction in this story. XD Well...interaction with a Hetalia character, anyway.

The box exploded with enough force to rattle the chandelier in the attached dining room, though granted, that could have just been from the shrapnel, and that thing wasn't too well screwed in, anyway.

I was shocked it didn't come crashing down on top of my table. That was a good shock, though, since three of my five final projects lived there, and had that thing been knocked loose and crushed them, I would've beaten Canada right back into his box.

And felt horribly guilty afterwards, but still.

Something scrambled out of the box - I couldn't see, I was cowering on the other side of the door - and scrambled toward my room. It was only five steps, since there was no hallway to speak of - aside from the one to the front door - in the apartment, and I panicked.

I spun around the door and swung my hockey stick like a gravity hammer.

I've played Halo all of once. It was a 4 v 4 match, and the one with the most kills at the end of 50 rounds won. I got one kill. I GOT killed 49 times. The weapon I got my only kill with? The gravity hammer. God, I love swinging things….

Fortunately, unlike in Halo, the target did not go flying backwards upon impact. Which was good, because again, my project table was in the line of fire. I really need to put those in a safer place, now, I guess….maybe the attic? I've never actually been up there. Was it big enough? Was it dusty? I'm allergic to dust!

"Maple!"

Oh, right. I'd just smacked my favorite country in the face with a beaten up and splintery hockey stick.

Bad fangirl, bad.

"OH my god, are you okay?" I dropped my stick on the floor and-OW! Oh, holy swedish fish, the pain! Dropping a composite stick on a toe still recovering from an ingrown nail is a BAD idea.

Just saying'.

Getting back on topic, I started hopping in pain. Canada - or Matthew. Should I call him Matthew? I guess we'll work this out later - started worrying about ME, while I'M still worrying about HIM. Then Nunavut started howling and barking, the announcer started screaming as the Flyers scored a goal, tying the game we'd both forgotten about, and then a neighbor started banging on my door.

They either told me to shut up and turn down the TV, or something about broccoli…

Textbook Spanish doesn't match up well with Orlando-Latino Spanish. Six years, and I still failed at the language. Weird huh? I speak more Klingon than I do Spanish. Qappla. Luc. petaQ.

…..sorry to any Klingon-speakers for that last one.

Oh yeah, back to the screaming.

Ten minutes later, the microwave beeped, letting me know the popcorn was done. I limped the few steps to the kitchen and popped open the door, pulling out the steaming bag and tearing it open. My glasses were immediately fogged up, but I was right in front of the counter, anyway, so I just poured the popcorn into the bowl and waited until my glasses de-fogged.

Back in my room, Nunavut was lying on the bed, chewing a rawhide bone. I HAD been saving that for his birthday, but it got him to quiet down, at least. Canada was sitting on the edge of my bed, holding an icepack to his head. I didn't think I'd hit him that hard, but then the skin had turned purple…

Did they ship me a human or a robot? Or was he an android? The only one I knew to compare him to was Data, from Star Trek: TNG - haha, yes. I'm a Trekkie! - but Canada - Matthew? - was already much more human than Data. And he used contractions. And a Canadian accent.

Good Lord, the accent….

"So…." I sat down on the bed beside him. My feet dangled over the edge, making my feel really short compared to him. The manual said he was about 5'9", so he was a good eight inches taller than me, anyway. "Sorry about your face…..about hitting it, I mean." I really hope he didn't take that the wrong way. That would be a horrible start…

"It's alright, eh." He smiled. Oh God, he's smiling! And he said 'eh'! Yay! I got the cute one first! "I probably just scared you….I get a little excited about hockey, eh."

"I know the feeling." I smiled. "Um….popcorn?" I offered him the bowl. Again, he smiled that so-cute-it-should-be-illegal-smile.

"Sure, eh. Thanks." For a while after that, the only sounds were Nunavut's satisfied chewing and the commercials that played in-between periods. Neither of us were really paying attention to them, anyway. We just wanted the game to restart.

It would give both of us something to relate to without having to resort to that oh-so-awkward conversation about the weather and whatever else we could think of that people didn't really care about.

Seriously, who cared that much about the weather? I certainly didn't. I mean sure, it paid to know if it was going to rain when I'm about to head off to class (since almost every time it did, I forgot my freaking umbrella) but the weather wasn't THAT interesting. What to talk about…what to talk about…..oh, wait. There was that promise I'd made Nunavut this morning. He was happy with his rawhide bone, but still….

"…..wanna go to the park after the game?" I asked. Canada paused for a moment, chewing his mouthful of popcorn.

"Sure, eh."

I tried to give it a little more 'voice', but I think all I did was spiral off-topic. -_- Sorry...