[ See Scotland on the couch as the Guide records from the floor off to the side.
See Scotland with a necktie tied around his head.
See Scotland with a necktie tired around his head and his shirt unbuttoned.
Also see copious amounts of chesthair, but that's beside the point.
He seems to be chattering to himself, a large amount of various alcoholic
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So he casually strides in, looking around for the other nation.]
Ecosse, I've made some--
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...Ah, I see you're. Busy. Pardonne.
[SUBTLY
TRYING TO MOONWALK OUT]
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Scotland sees France slowly edging away and squints at him considering it's at an odd angle, then he dramatically points. ]
HahahahHAHAHHAA.
Makin' food! That's whit y'dae best, Frankie! Dae y'remember cookin' things in tha' mid'le o' nowhere tae feed both o' ourselves back in the days when Artie was especially a cunt an' we bovvered 'im?---!?
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Oui, oui, I remember. I remember because I was the one doing the cooking.
[A little exasperated, but not in ill humor.]
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S'guid times they were!
[ He squints slightly at France, smile growing. ATLEAST HE'S SMILING---? ]
Aa, hn. Y'were so young back then, Frankie. Both o' us were-- all o' us were!
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After all, why not? Good spirits, good wine, good times. But as it is, he'll just kind of watch these shenanigans fondly.]
Big Brother France wasn't so big back then, no.
[Sitting down, because it's clear Scotland doesn't want to get up.]
Some things have changed, some haven't. For example, your drinking habits.
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His eyes drop half way before he reaches up and points a finger right at France's nose, flicking it slightly. ]
An' yer, uwahh--
[ He doesn't know what to say, to he starts another sentence. ]
An' yer jus' a poofter still. [ He suddenly speaks loudly, slurring these words especially. ]
Aaaaalllways gaun on aboot yerself. Moi this an' that. Moi 'air. Moi clothes. Moi magnificent body. Moi wine. Moi culture. Moi m'self! I am French, honhon, and Big Brother moi!
[ the worst impersonation ever. He's used to saying me instead of my. ]
Yer nae me fuckin' brother ot'erwise me thinks I would' ave strangled y'already. Och, aye, I would nae stand tae 'ave such a poofter aspart o' me ilk. Wales is flamboy'nt enough.
[ not really but Wales is really there just to take shots at and picked on without proof of anything. ]
Instead, me ilk is just made up o' cunts. E'eryone o' them--!
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The power of wine, ladies and gentleman.]
Your accent leaves much to be desired, but I'll give you a passing grade for effort. You really should try to learn the language-- it's the best in the world, after all.
[Still laughing, still watching.]
Ah, is this complaints hour? Tell me when I can have the floor as well, oui?
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You insulted and complimented me in the span of 5 seconds, Ecosse. So you are learning French?
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Excusez-moi, na, I'mmur nae!
[ swats at the hand once his hair is ruffled, suddenly getting huffy since his little secret there was blown. ]
Hou dare y'make such an accusation like that-- muttermutter I ne'er said anythin' o' the sort!
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[A little smirk, and he corrects Scotland's accent.]
From what I'm hearing, that's what it sounds like to me, non? Always so stubborn.
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Naeeee bein' stubborn, Frankie. Dinnae ken whit yer sayin'. Ye'uv always always been manipulative.
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[Not that he won't flat-out deny being manipulative, because he so can be. He's just charming about it.]
Maybe you're just difficult.
[A chuckle, and he ruffles Scotland's hair again.]
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