Past-Part Fills Post 1 -- CLOSED
Thanks to anon's suggestions we are now enforcing a past-part fills post
Fresh past-part fills post HERE
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For all that his people usually described the country with a plethora of expletives, America was a lovely country. None of the regions were exactly like the others, and sometimes Francis wondered how Alfred managed to keep up with it all. Francis had technically arrived in California on Monday, but in order to account for the time difference, he had booked a hotel room and spent his time enjoying Los Angeles before his meeting. Now that he was headed towards Alfred's house, a feeling he knew well to be dread had taken root in his stomach, and he suddenly had no idea what he was going to say to the nation when he saw him.
He arrived right on time. He had called Alfred earlier that day to confirm the time, and Alfred had replied with a text message that gave him this month's combination to the lock on the front door, "in case I'm back in my office or something and don't answer when you knock".
Sure enough, Alfred hadn't answered, and Francis never was one to stand around waiting, so he punched in the combination and let himself in.
He could hear the sound of shuffling from the living room as he closed the front door behind him. Wondering if Alfred was perhaps moving furniture, he followed the noises, deciding it would probably be a good idea to make his presence known.
"Alfred, it's Franc...is..." He stood in the doorway to the living room, watching in a mixture of shock and amusement, unable do decide what exactly he should do.
Alfred was in his pajamas (well, in his pajama pants, anyway), headphones in his ears, iPod in his hands, back to Francis, dancing like a fool. He held the iPod like a microphone and started singing along to the music (well, more like vocalizing, because there weren't any actual words, just a bunch of whooah-ooohhhs). It wasn't until he'd turned himself completely around and seen Francis standing there that his eyes shot open and he tripped over his own feet, landing on the couch behind him with an unceremonious flop.
"F-Francis!" he turned off his music quickly. "H-H-Hi! I, ah...I thought you said you'd be here at four-thirty."
"I did," Francis pointed at the clock, which read 4:32.
"...Oh," was Alfred's eloquent reply. "Well...well, then. I...ahahahaha...I guess there's really no way for me to salvage my dignity after that, so...ah!" He seemed to just notice he wasn't wearing a shirt, and ran down the hallway for a moment, emerging in a t-shirt maybe two sizes too big that had the logo for some soda company on the front.
"Please, sit down!" he motioned to the chair behind Francis. Francis sat, running an anxious hand through his hair. This was what he was up against? A man who danced around with no shirt on singing into his iPod?
He was doomed.
"So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?" Alfred said, sitting back down on the couch with a little more grace this time. Francis could see the tinge of concern behind those blue eyes, and it almost hurt, because Alfred's intentions were always so noble, even if his methods were downright stupid sometimes...
"Alfred, I'm afraid I may become your rival very soon," he said.
"Huh?" Alfred jumped slightly. "Rival in what? If this is about that California vineyard, I'm pretty sure they were just joking--"
"Not a political rival, not a business rival, and not a rival in any national sense," Francis looked up at him. "I mean a rival in a more personal sense."
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