Re: The Companion [7.5/?]
anonymous
May 19 2010, 17:24:50 UTC
Instead he focused on England. Not how close he had been to speaking to him, but the fact that England was looking for him. He thought about the welcome he'd receive once he was out of this Hell hole. There'd probably have a party, one with streamers and balloons. Everyone would realise what a vital part he was to their lives, his goofy smile and wild ideas, both things necessary at their meetings.
Except there wasn't going to be a meeting this month, apparently. Russia had already sorted that out nicely, warping England's grief into an excuse to postpone them. America wondered what would happen once the meetings did start up again.
Would Russia take America with him? It hardly seemed feasible. There was no way America would sit idly by in a hotel room while Russia happily chatted away about pollution or cold things or whatever the heck concerned Russians.
Unable to be trusted alone in a hotel, America decided he'd probably be left at the house. He took a fragment of comfort knowing that Russia couldn't do that without constantly worrying that America would find a way out of the house while he was gone.
It was kind of, sort of, not really possible that Russia might leave someone to watch over America, but did he trust anyone enough? Knowing he had nothing to lose from asking, America blurted, "So does anyone know I'm hangin' around here?"
Russia lazily licked at his spoon, the flat of his tongue sweeping up any spare drops of soup. "Do you think I am stupid, America?" he asked, his tone listless.
"No, just crazy."
Russia smiled kindly, like a teacher thinking of how to correct a mistaken student. "Only the poor are mad. I, myself, have old money. America, do you know what old money is?" He allowed no time for America to answer. "No, you are too young still to understand such a concept. But you see, old money combined with my─" Russia moved his hand about in the air, as if he was stitching together the word he wanted with his fingers. "─behaviors, I am merely seen as eccentric."
"We have eccentric people too, y'know," America said conversationally. Anything Russia could do, he could do better. "They have houses with bumper cars on their roofs and stuff. Fun people."
"It is always like this with you, isn't it? With the one-upping and the running of the mouth."
"Hey man, I didn't bring eccentric folks up to begin with." America smiled inwardly, he'd caught Russia changing the subject and put a quick stop to it. But America wouldn't let their conversation merely drop, he'd offer Russia a chance to keep speaking, but only regarding topics America wanted to dwell on. "So, no one's caught on yet?"
"No." Russia snapped up the bait. "Everyone is eager for information. Whenever they talk to me I tell them I think you've gone on holiday. To them, it makes sense. What other options do they have to consider? It is either you ran away from your responsibilities, or you have been injured to the point where you cannot contact them. They will go with the happier story."
"Not even your sisters know?"
Russia looked at him as if he were the crazy one. "Have you ever had a lady friend? You do not know how they can be. All they do is talk and speak and gossip in their little voices, if only to hear themselves speak."
"That's kind of harsh, we're talking about your sisters here."
"You do not talk about my sisters," Russia said arrogantly, looking down his nose at America. "They are mine, not yours."
America chewed inelegantly on his spoon, the bowl before him empty. For what little regard Russia showed for his sisters, he sure was protective. His eyes lit up as when he noticed Russia had finished his bowl as well. He'd nearly forgotten about their deal after being caught up in their bizarre, yet not entirely unenjoyable, conversation. America would be lying if he were to pretend it wasn't intriguing to see what made Russia tick.
Except there wasn't going to be a meeting this month, apparently. Russia had already sorted that out nicely, warping England's grief into an excuse to postpone them. America wondered what would happen once the meetings did start up again.
Would Russia take America with him? It hardly seemed feasible. There was no way America would sit idly by in a hotel room while Russia happily chatted away about pollution or cold things or whatever the heck concerned Russians.
Unable to be trusted alone in a hotel, America decided he'd probably be left at the house. He took a fragment of comfort knowing that Russia couldn't do that without constantly worrying that America would find a way out of the house while he was gone.
It was kind of, sort of, not really possible that Russia might leave someone to watch over America, but did he trust anyone enough? Knowing he had nothing to lose from asking, America blurted, "So does anyone know I'm hangin' around here?"
Russia lazily licked at his spoon, the flat of his tongue sweeping up any spare drops of soup. "Do you think I am stupid, America?" he asked, his tone listless.
"No, just crazy."
Russia smiled kindly, like a teacher thinking of how to correct a mistaken student. "Only the poor are mad. I, myself, have old money. America, do you know what old money is?" He allowed no time for America to answer. "No, you are too young still to understand such a concept. But you see, old money combined with my─" Russia moved his hand about in the air, as if he was stitching together the word he wanted with his fingers. "─behaviors, I am merely seen as eccentric."
"We have eccentric people too, y'know," America said conversationally. Anything Russia could do, he could do better. "They have houses with bumper cars on their roofs and stuff. Fun people."
"It is always like this with you, isn't it? With the one-upping and the running of the mouth."
"Hey man, I didn't bring eccentric folks up to begin with." America smiled inwardly, he'd caught Russia changing the subject and put a quick stop to it. But America wouldn't let their conversation merely drop, he'd offer Russia a chance to keep speaking, but only regarding topics America wanted to dwell on. "So, no one's caught on yet?"
"No." Russia snapped up the bait. "Everyone is eager for information. Whenever they talk to me I tell them I think you've gone on holiday. To them, it makes sense. What other options do they have to consider? It is either you ran away from your responsibilities, or you have been injured to the point where you cannot contact them. They will go with the happier story."
"Not even your sisters know?"
Russia looked at him as if he were the crazy one. "Have you ever had a lady friend? You do not know how they can be. All they do is talk and speak and gossip in their little voices, if only to hear themselves speak."
"That's kind of harsh, we're talking about your sisters here."
"You do not talk about my sisters," Russia said arrogantly, looking down his nose at America. "They are mine, not yours."
America chewed inelegantly on his spoon, the bowl before him empty. For what little regard Russia showed for his sisters, he sure was protective. His eyes lit up as when he noticed Russia had finished his bowl as well. He'd nearly forgotten about their deal after being caught up in their bizarre, yet not entirely unenjoyable, conversation. America would be lying if he were to pretend it wasn't intriguing to see what made Russia tick.
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