WHO: EVERYONE
WHAT: Chatting in the aslyum, but with that pesky 'tell no lie' thing in the way.
WHERE: Anywhere.
WHEN: The entire week the event's taking place in.
WARNING(S): Possible swearing from the usual suspects 8| and moderately Freudian psychoanalysis
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To be honest... )
I'm terribly sorry to have to say this but I'd absolutely love to psychoanalyze you.
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"Tch, Catholic doesn't mean chaste or pure. Besides, technically I'm some kind of Protestant -don't ask me what kind; I stopped caring about a century ago- and that hardly reflects in my behaviour. As far as how I dealt with the change... I just did. I didn't really have any say in the matter." Note how he's rambling about what she originally intended to ask. It's the best deflection he can think of at the moment, because he knows he won't be able to not answer or lie about questions he doesn't want to answer. Especially since she looks far too pleased over the situation; God knows he's now mentally running through everything she might know to be curious about.
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Shifting slightly to peer over at her a bit better, he squints at that question. "You realise I wasn't even old enough physically to get it up until I was Ducal and Royal Prussia, riiiight?" ...Actually, that's an interesting coincidence, that he wasn't really physically capable of sex until he was made Protestant. Have fun reading too much into that. "Now, why are you so fixated on my sexual history, Prinzessin?" The nickname borders on snide and mocking. "I gotta say, I can only think of one good reason..." However, his tone quickly smooths out to almost seductive. Oh, yes, his tongue did just slip out to wet his lips.
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Her reaction makes him laugh in his usual harsh manner. "Ah, you should try something else. I'm fairly open about sex." There are a few specific questions she should ask now, otherwise he may never answer, but he is still being truthful. He didn't say he was wholly open. "And what's wrong with sharing the awesome?" He sees nothing wrong with promiscuity; not when some of his bosses have openly had mistresses.
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"You've never met France, then," he deadpans. "Seriously, though. International relations have nothing to do with it. I mean, there was a time when the frog was politically one of my closest allies, but I just wanted to smash his skull in because Fritz was all about French culture. Food, literature, philosophy, even music. He said the sound of a horse neighing was more pleasant than that of someone singing in German; can you believe that?" The laughter following that is more the kind designed to hide upset than genuine incredulosity. "Ah ( ... )
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It would be nice for her to meet France, perhaps. In her estimation his nation seemed to be a relatively well-adjusted one, but maybe she's wrong from what Prussia's saying. That's not the point, however. The point is Fritz, better known as the potential icing on the cake. "Ah, that was such a terrible thing for him to say. You must have been terribly jealous." Her excitement makes her lean in, borderline involuntarily. "That he had so much of Your Beloved's Affection." She mockingly capitalizes each word that he would with a sharp tap of her pen. ( ... )
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