Sidecar [1b/3]
anonymous
October 31 2011, 14:37:08 UTC
One thick eyebrow had risen when Alfred's tone turned firm, and the Brit’s hand left the bottle so that he could cross his arms, setting his feet apart; it was a stance he usually got when he was about to lay into the younger nation. Seeing Arthur's arms cross in a stance to match his own, Alfred forced himself to meet those green eyes with his own determined glare. He wasn't going to back down this time, he had resolved himself; that is, until the older man started speaking in that voice that always made him want to physically shrink.
"Listen here, lad," began Arthur with his own firm tone, "First things first, I believe my diplomatic immunity covers keeping my own liquor if I choose to. I'm not making you drink it, I only offered. Plenty of your children roam the speakeasies and run the underground with booze. That's not to mention your own brother's hand in rum-running! Outlawing it has done nothing but make it something exciting to those seeking civil disobedience!”
Oh, to bring up Matthew-that was a low blow. Alfred was still righteously angry over the fact that his own brother seemed to do almost nothing to stop the hoodlums of his land from smuggling the illicit beverages across the Detroit river into the American's house, to Alfred's own people. He didn't want to talk about it, and thus left the remark unaddressed, though its effect on him flashed vividly across his face as the words were spoken. He stubbornly maintained his posture, though, doing his best not to give any indications that Arthur was indeed getting to him. "Hey,” he interrupted, “it's only civil disobedience if the law's not for their own good! Which the Volstead Act is. And all the violence and evil stuff going on underground, you should be blaming that on the liquor itself and not the ban!" His own arguments were losing steam, he could feel it as he went along, slowly deflating him.
Arthur scoffed when Alfred said that it wasn't civil disobedience, giving a wave of his hand to dismiss it. “They're a lot like you, you know, your people. Like nation, like children," he said with a slight smirk now.
That final comment left the American with a bad taste in his mouth and no real response. "A lot like me, what's that supposed to mean?"
With a catty grin, Arthur leaned back against the bedside table with his arms resting behind him now. "What did I mean? I meant they're just like you, Alfred. When you tell them not to do something, they run right out and do it! Your children are headstrong, overconfident, and quite sure they know what's best for themselves and everyone else!"
"That's not true!" the American blustered almost immediately in response to Arthur's accusations about his people (though, truth be told, he was more objecting the notion that what the older nation had said described him). "What, are you still mad about what my Secretary of State said about cutting down on your navy? Because that is what's best for everyone! Another arms race could get us right back into war again!"
"Listen here, lad," began Arthur with his own firm tone, "First things first, I believe my diplomatic immunity covers keeping my own liquor if I choose to. I'm not making you drink it, I only offered. Plenty of your children roam the speakeasies and run the underground with booze. That's not to mention your own brother's hand in rum-running! Outlawing it has done nothing but make it something exciting to those seeking civil disobedience!”
Oh, to bring up Matthew-that was a low blow. Alfred was still righteously angry over the fact that his own brother seemed to do almost nothing to stop the hoodlums of his land from smuggling the illicit beverages across the Detroit river into the American's house, to Alfred's own people. He didn't want to talk about it, and thus left the remark unaddressed, though its effect on him flashed vividly across his face as the words were spoken. He stubbornly maintained his posture, though, doing his best not to give any indications that Arthur was indeed getting to him. "Hey,” he interrupted, “it's only civil disobedience if the law's not for their own good! Which the Volstead Act is. And all the violence and evil stuff going on underground, you should be blaming that on the liquor itself and not the ban!" His own arguments were losing steam, he could feel it as he went along, slowly deflating him.
Arthur scoffed when Alfred said that it wasn't civil disobedience, giving a wave of his hand to dismiss it. “They're a lot like you, you know, your people. Like nation, like children," he said with a slight smirk now.
That final comment left the American with a bad taste in his mouth and no real response. "A lot like me, what's that supposed to mean?"
With a catty grin, Arthur leaned back against the bedside table with his arms resting behind him now. "What did I mean? I meant they're just like you, Alfred. When you tell them not to do something, they run right out and do it! Your children are headstrong, overconfident, and quite sure they know what's best for themselves and everyone else!"
"That's not true!" the American blustered almost immediately in response to Arthur's accusations about his people (though, truth be told, he was more objecting the notion that what the older nation had said described him). "What, are you still mad about what my Secretary of State said about cutting down on your navy? Because that is what's best for everyone! Another arms race could get us right back into war again!"
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