† Duo; Video; Backdated to the afternoon, after hers and England's fight.

[fettuttittes]

[The communicator flicks on as Romana tosses it onto her bed, somehow landing on her pillow in a way that you get just enough of a look of the room to tell what's going on. It jostles slight as Romana sits down on the bed, groaning softly as she reaches down to unlace her boots, wriggling her toes once they're free. There's worse aches in her body

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/NOT LATE also both bro and sis feel free to reply ;3;

[crotchroses]

[It was a brother's duty to take care of his family. They were not on the best of terms, no, but he couldn't consider Romana or Romano his enemies. With all that has been going on, France can't bring himself not to do something for them whether they want the assistance or not.

In any case, if anyone knew something about old wounds that bring up unpleasant memories, it was him, right?

He brings what supplies he can spare as well as a closed container packed full of food he's cooked himself from what Italian recipes he recalls. Stacked atop it is a package with bandages and other first-aid items, and on top of that is a folded garment--a slightly patchwork but carefully-sewn dress. It's difficult to manage something more practical given the lack of material, but this is the least he could offer. She was much too young to wear something like this in those days, and it would be sturdy and keep her warm when the colder months came--if winter was a thing that happened here. Worse case, he would alter the measurements for someone else if

[crotchroses]

[Two seconds pass and France is on his feet, entering the kitchen. He can't allow himself to sit while she cooks, but he can't simply invade the resources of her kitchen.]

...

I will help you cook. [Rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, he fidgets his hands.]

[fettuttittes]

[Standing over her stove Romana shakes her head, before going to open a tin of canned tomatoes. Not what she'd pick if she had a choice, but it's the best she can get]

No. I don't need help. Go and sit down.

[crotchroses]

Please, cherie.

[fettuttittes]

No! [Romana's shoulders stiffen, and she stays turned away from him. Her voice is clearly strained on the edge of another meltdown.]

No. No, I need to do this. To remind me. [That one day her hands won't reek of blood and gunpowder, that one day she'll be at peace.]

[crotchroses]

[France quite literally (though on purpose) bites his tongue and nods before he shuffles back to the couch. It's a different matter, not being allowed to cook, when the one doing the cooking has her very particular reasons.

Instead, he busies himself with his communicator. There was a sketching option but he'd become frustrated with it and decided to play Tetris instead.

He sighs.]

Have you tried teaching Romano how not to burn water?

[fettuttittes]

[She relaxes as soon as he goes, taking a few deep and needed breaths to calm herself. Slowly she manages to push the emotions back into their little box and even though it's a struggle she locks them away. And then she starts to move again, hands quick and methodological as she cooks, years of the same task ingrained in her till all she has to do is relax.

Distractedly, she calls back, frowning at her ingredients] He's not a bad cook, bastardo. Quite good for a man, really.