::He has an orange ring on, and no idea where it came from. None. Whatsoever. But that's not what has him worried, oh no. So at that sudden hug, he's just going to return it with a desperate cling and a mumbled 'Shut up'.::
But... but... even Arthur doesn't think the books I'm reading are the best choice a-and I can't even sing and... ::Hides his face because damn it all this is so unawesome. Why is he so worried and why is he letting stupid shit like this bother him to this extent?!::
[He squeezes Prussia, ruffling his hair.] Well, I won't argue the books, but I wanna point out, that some grandmothers sound worse than nails on a chalkboard, and you'll catch them singing to their little grandkids. What matters most, is it's your voice. [He pokes Gilbert just over where his heart would be.] Right now, he's got your heart thrumming in his ears, yanno that?
But what if he doesn't like my voice? What if it just irritates him? It's not like I have much of a speaking voice and my singing is really bad and and ::DEEP. FUCKING. BREATH. like a boss.:: I know that.
Unless it's Russia. Then Russia may get leaned on instead.]
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B-b-but he has.
::Mustn't cry...::
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