"I've been expecting you, Beilschmidt."
Gilbert stood in the doorway, a bit unsure. Arthur had been expecting him. He figured the guy might assume he'd pop up eventually, but not expect him. Right now, one Arthur Kirkland was sitting at the head of his dining room table, hands folded in front of him with a look on his face that said he had been plotting whatever was to happen next for some time now. It was implied that it wouldn't be pleasant for him.
"Staring dumbly, I see." Slow and calculated, Arthur stood up and approached Gilbert. Then he jabbed the man in the chest. "Stand up straight. Today, Beilschmidt, I am putting you through a crash course in etiquette."
"The fuck, Kirkland."
"How horribly eloquent." Arthur paused to jab Gilbert into standing straight again. "I do detest to associate myself with those who cannot present themselves properly."
"The fuck, Kirkland."
"This is exactly why this needs to be done, Beilschmidt. You can't even properly express yourself."
Shaking himself out of his dumbfounded state, Gilbert moves to make an intelligent reply. "I don't need etiquette lessons. I've had to learn all that stuff for court shit a long time ago."
In response, Gilbert received another jab in the chest. "Beilschmidt I swear to God, if you don't start straightening that spine of yours I am going to shove a broom handle down your throat."
The albino then decided it would be a good idea to stand straight for the rest of his visit.
"Good."
Gilbert thought Arthur almost looked pleased with himself.
"Now, Beilschmidt, you and I are going to have afternoon tea."
He almost gulped.
"Come along, Beilschmidt. I know that you do so enjoy standing about like an idiot, but there is tea to be had."
The Brit has already started walking, and Gilbert had to take a few long strides to catch up. "Are we seriously doing this?"
"Indeed we are. And properly, might I add." A sharp glance was sent to the Prussian. "Prepare yourself."
This man is the only guy capable of even getting him remotely flustered, he swears.
Soon, Gilbert finds himself sitting at a little table drinking tea with Arthur, who happens to be criticizing his every move. To say he was uncomfortable would be an understatement.
Arthur happened to be enjoying himself.
"You're an idiot, Beilschmidt."