LOG TIIIIIIIIME~ ♥

[bellefierte]

Who: Francis Bonnefoy [France] (bellefierte) and Arthur Kirkland [England] (sconetastic)
What: France comes to visit England to say hi. England gets pissed majorly. Very interesting things shall happen~
Why: It's a chance for England to...I don't know what. Find out yourself. ♥
When: Ehh, reeeally recent. Like today, or whatever.
Where: England's house.
Other: Log is

Comments

[sconetastic]

England trudges to the door, fairly irritated at whoever it may be that is interrupting his grand tea time with his fairy friends and unicorns.

Really, it is Isabelle's birthday after all, there's nothing wrong with celebrating the mythical beast's birthday with proper scones and fine earl grey tea to accompany the feast.

"What?" He begins, annoyance laced into his voice before he raises his head to see France. Then his eyes widen. "Y-you!! Why are you here when it's tea time?" He glances at the beautiful basket of bread and blinks owlishly at the roses, a barely visible flush hinting on his pale skin.

Maybe he is just... slightly surprised. In a good way.

[bellefierte]

"Roses and bread...for you!" France straightened his arm out forward, shoving the basket in England's face. After dropping the huge basket in England's arms, he stuck his foot out and thrust himself forward into England's house before he (England) could say anything.

France twirled around a bit in England's large room. "Oh, lovely as always!" He fell down on one of England's big squishy sofas, sinking down into the soft plush. "And these couches! So soft, so lovely, so relaxing." France dozed off for a few minutes before realizing that he was in England's house.

"Arthur, oh Arthur!" France quickly sat up. "How is my dear Arthur on this fine, lovely day?"

[sconetastic]

He is stunned for a few moments, staring down at the basket of bread and roses before stumbling inside after France, slamming the door shut behind him.

He is still admiring the roses and can't get over the fact that he just got some bloody fucking roses as he shuffles into the living room. He clears his throat momentarily, regaining his usual stern posture and scowls at France. "Don't you think it's a little rude to be throwing yourself on people's couches even if you are a guest?" He says, setting down the basket on his mahogany dining table. "And I'm not yours either!" This comes out faster than he intended, though he is glad the stuttering did not make itself present. "I was having tea with Isabelle and them before your interruption." He pauses. "If you'd like. I guess you can join us?"

[bellefierte]

"Tea? With you? I would love to!" France beamed. He tosses his legs on the coffee table and put his head back.

He saw England with his angry, pouty expression and waved.

[sconetastic]

"We are having tea OUTSIDE! Get your bloody feet off my table or I will saw them off and feed them to the sharks!" England hisses, glowering at the Frenchman.

Honestly, who does he think he is! Putting feet randomly on people's furniture and UGH. How he ever even got along with this man for the past few centuries is a myster-- no, wait. he's never gotten along with him.

It is a peculiar relationship they have. Perhaps people would refer to it as a "hate-love" relationship.

To England, France is nothing but a pain in the ass and a fucking bloody drunk frog that hops around groping asses and preying on innocent by standers with his dinky pecker.

Maybe a bit more.

He doesn't quite know, to be honest. Or maybe not so honest, because he cannot deny the fact that his heart does jump a bit whenever he sees that bearded dickwad and feels just a tiny little bit attracted to the blond.

Maybe.

... Maybe.