[When the feed turns on, it takes a moment to adjust to the blond-haired man staring rather inquisitively into the camera, an index finger tapping gently at his lips. He doesn't look all so pleased, either, if the little furrow between his brows is any indication of his mood.
Blue eyes survey the feed, before he breaks into a smile, relaxed. A
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[half of it is false bravado, another half is his tenacity for survival, and...well, nothing is left over, but all of it is France.]
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[He pats Canada on the head-- a force of habit from a long time ago? Who knows.]
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[Canada blushes at the gesture, but smiles happily. It's so nostalgic, and it relaxes him...]
I'm sure you'll make the best of it...
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Of course! I'm the great republique, and all of God's pranks can't keep me down for too long.
Too long.
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Um, can I help with anything? Maybe I could show you to your room?
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...
Does Iceland know about this?
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...I'm not quite sure.
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Scotland is staying at Iceland's place. So he really shouldn't be offering a place that isn't his...
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[haha sure france]
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O-of course, but... [...no, it would be no use arguing that the place would be too small or the sleeping arrangements awkward. (Wasn't there only one bedroom? Scotland must be on the couch...)]
I'm sorry. I wish I had a place that I could invite you to.
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