[Why would he still be asleep at 2pm? Has he gotten even lazier since he last saw her? Which, by the way, has been quite a while in her opinion. Some of it is excusable, after all most of them are busier than usual once the holidays come up what with the bosses rushing to finish things so they can have said holidays off too. In fact with all those late night 4am emergency conferences Germany's been dragged to lately even Prussia herself has been forced to work a bit. Imagine the horror
( ... )
[...2pm is a perfectly reasonable time to be asleep...and it isn't his fault they're both busy people. She's welcome to call, if she hasn't totally forgotten how to use a telephone for its intended purpose. Or he can send her love letters and wait for her to come and sputter ridiculously at him, how does that sound?
He's oblivious; she makes little sound and he's too far away to hear it, not to mention too absorbed in his cooki- in his work.
That is, until his door crashes open, which leaves him frozen much like a cat with its fur on end, his eyes wide, while the genuine feline among them makes a noise of protest and flees to the top of a bookcase. When he can creakily turn to look at her, swallowing hard to recover from the shock (I mean really, it sounded like the earth cracked in two), he twitches a little bit and is silent...although he vaguely registers the rather un-Prussia amount of cleavage on display.]
[No. No it is not. And she would think of calling but really, he doesn't want her to remember she has his cell number because she would spam text him at all hours of the day, if he even remembers where his cellphone is. That sounds terrible though more because Germany checks their mail than for the sputtering.
He better be planning on sharing those cookies now that she's here. She feels a bit bad for scaring the kitty but it had to be done for the greater good of getting her laid. But don't worry too much, a quick glance at the door confirms she didn't break or crack it. Small miracles. And well, if he won't speak then she will.]
[It is so. And can't she call the house? Although...she...she can text him. I-if she must. He'll reply in perfectly correct full sentences, however. He specified precisely that he needed a full qwerty keyboard on his phone when Germany got it, you know.
No cookies for people who can't even knock. He just stares in utter bewilderment, ignoring her attempt at being a secret agent or an armed robber or whatever it is.]
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He's oblivious; she makes little sound and he's too far away to hear it, not to mention too absorbed in his cooki- in his work.
That is, until his door crashes open, which leaves him frozen much like a cat with its fur on end, his eyes wide, while the genuine feline among them makes a noise of protest and flees to the top of a bookcase. When he can creakily turn to look at her, swallowing hard to recover from the shock (I mean really, it sounded like the earth cracked in two), he twitches a little bit and is silent...although he vaguely registers the rather un-Prussia amount of cleavage on display.]
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He better be planning on sharing those cookies now that she's here. She feels a bit bad for scaring the kitty but it had to be done for the greater good of getting her laid. But don't worry too much, a quick glance at the door confirms she didn't break or crack it. Small miracles. And well, if he won't speak then she will.]
Hands up Österreich, this is an invasion!
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No cookies for people who can't even knock. He just stares in utter bewilderment, ignoring her attempt at being a secret agent or an armed robber or whatever it is.]
Is the doorbell beneath you now?
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