Who: EVERYBODY.
What: moving your ass from one end of the Sanctuary to the other since 1945. Look
here for more details.
Where: South Wing.
When: Morning, 25 September 1946.
Notes: An open thread in which you and your shit is transferred into the epic South Wing. Just look at those sweet-ass tapestries, yeah. Jump on in the mingle post, reply to
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Pausing, he stood in the middle of the hallway looking for his new room number, foot tapping a little impatiently.
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"...what're you doing with such a big thing, did you come all the way down here from home with that, or did someone send it to you? You're not going to be playing silly things on that at funny hours are you?"
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"It was sent to me, and since it's useful I decided to keep it." He replied stonily; there was nothing sentimental about it past the Bach and jazz records it so nicely played.
"I can be trusted to play it reasonably." He raised his brows at Spain, watching as he bit into the apple.
"So where have they made you stay?" He asked, trying to be polite; he knew Spain was one of his bruder's good friends, and the other nation had largely stayed out of his way during the war, and even while they were in this place together.
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He didn't seem to notice any sort of annoyance or particular difference in Germany's behavior, but he'd always been a bit bad at reading things on the first few go arounds. Perhaps putting them under close quarters would make it easier for him to read the mood of the younger German--but it had never made it so between himself and Romano Italia, so why should it be so between himself and Germany. Nevertheless, he smiled amicably and munched at his apple, offer open.
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Germany started coughing, choking on the sound of complaint stuck in his throat. He really should have paid more attention to the list of room assignments, but he hadn't stayed to read more than his name, blaming the gramophone he'd been carrying at the time. With a last loud cough and a few more sounds of clearing his throat, Germany managed a grunting reply.
"Please do not touch any of my things."
Ever. He added quietly in his mind. Then he checked himself; Spain was only being friendly, in fact he was one of the few nations to be outwardly friendly to Germany in this place. With a deep breath, he tried again.
"On second thought, I have some clothes you can take. You can leave the records for me, please."
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"Of course, captain. Which way to the old bunker? Are all your things packed up and I can easily snatch away the things you want, or should I pack things up as well--I promise I won't rifle through any drawers, just the closet."
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He told Spain where he'd been staying, and that he'd left the door open.
"You don't have to take anything but the clothes." He stated again, sighing a little at the fact that he'd probably have to re-fold them.
[We can move it to the room thread whenever you want, XD Cryyyy Spain, why are you so nice.]
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He called after himself, "Go ahead and take your heavy thing in, I've only moved in my guitar, so pick whatever side you want~"
[Room thread is gooooooo /o/]
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