“Try to be optimistic,” Belgium elbowed him as she put her hat on.
“Ain’t he killing it, Bel?” America asked.
Belgium just nodded.
“Okay, so I need to go. I’m the one that’s going to let the fireworks blow when the clock strikes twelve,” he explained with a huge grin.
“Try not to burn the stage,” Britain said. “Or your hands.”
America rolled his eyes
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