[Have a half-awake America on your feed, scrubbing at one of his eyes - which then widen as he realizes just what he is seeing. The feed shakes as he pulls himself to his feet.]
Fuck, what happened? Who do I need to punch for you?
[He JUMPS when he hears the voice. He could have sworn his heart stopped for a moment. He looked around for the voice, though at the moment he didn't realize who it was - he never remembered America being there when Jeanne... Jeanne.....]
[He glared over at the watch, his breath quickly growing heavy, his teeth bared before he growled and slammed his blood-covered hand over the watch, shutting it.
It was partially because of you and what you said, yes, America - but he never wanted people to see him like this. That pissed him off the most - his mask had been chipped into.]
[He gasped at the voice, and believe it or not the first reaction is to wipe at his eyes, not attempt to hide all the blood from anyone who may be in the room. Glancing about, he notices the watch.]
...non...ah, merde...
[He sits back against his bed and puts a hand over his eyes.
.....'ow long has zis damned zing been broadcasting.
[He was hurting. He'd quite forgotten for the moment that Jeanne was even here. But...as a Frenchman...he could still attempt to hold on to that infamous stubborn pride that England loathed so much, and that he found equally irritable about the Briton. Especially now. Whenever his mind flashed back to those furious green eyes, the bleeding seemed to grow stronger.]
[A sigh.] ...
[But then, not many pains were like these. Jeanne was alive, and here he was, still grieving.]
...I don't know...
[The end of 'know' is broken in two by another sob he couldn't quite restrain.]
France... You realise that if I didn't enjoy your company, I'd be laughing at you for this...? You may want to shut the video off. There may be others with my sense of humour.
[His head is still swimming with the nightmare when an English accent is heard on his ears. He reached up and clicked the bedside lamp light on so he could see, panic stabbing at him - but the illusion was quickly dispelled when he saw no one in the room. He sat back down, and in the light the blood flowing from his chest and over the hand pressing on it was visible. He looked over at the open watch, his breath still heavy, and frowned. Of course that thing would pick a time like this to turn on.
...but the voice, the accent, he knew he'd heard it. Which on of the filthy bastards was it - perhaps it was Arthur. He hoped it wasn't. It better not have been. He knew what day it was. He picks it up.]
[[Theta knows better than to press the issue, especially when her ability to be sympathetic was limited to knowing when not to laugh. It's in the afternoon, much later, that she shows up at France's door, a first aid kit, a bottle of wine, a package of crackers, and a wedge of brie stuck in a basket over her arm. She knocks, and waits to be let in. She hopes he will.]]
Action foreverfleurdeamourMay 30 2011, 16:21:03 UTC
[He wasn't in his apartment by then. As a matter of fact, a few minutes later he was walking out of the apartment next door. His shirt was open in the front, but that was because he wanted to let the bandaged wound breathe a bit. Gauze was taped over his heart, love Aqua, and he was walking back to his apartment when he sees Theta.]
...'allo, monsieur...
[His lips twitched a bit but he couldn't quite fake a smile just yet.]
[Aqua heard him rolling off his bed and onto the floor. It only takes her a few seconds to get up and out of her bed and only a minute later when she's yanking open the door to his room. She goes over and sits herself next to him, placing her hands gently on his shoulders.]
Francis? It's okay, let it out.
[Aqua really doesn't like seeing him like this but she'd never dream of ignoring him while he's like this.]
Action foreverfleurdeamourMay 30 2011, 15:49:09 UTC
[If she hadn't spoken, he would have shaken her off. He wanted to run. He wanted to run back to his house and hide in there for days. She'd been thrown in the Sienne already-
But this was Aqua. And he wasn't at home...
...he hated people seeing him cry. Hell, he hated people seeing him frown, unless he was being rude to them. He wasn't a fan of dumping his drama on others, either. But...
He stayed there for a moment before moving to sit back against the bed. Blood ran between his fingers from the wound over his heart. He was trying not to cry now - she was here, he remembered. Jeanne was here, and she was safe. Right next door.
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[Have a half-awake America on your feed, scrubbing at one of his eyes - which then widen as he realizes just what he is seeing. The feed shakes as he pulls himself to his feet.]
Fuck, what happened? Who do I need to punch for you?
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Jeanne...mon ange...
[His voice shook and his tone lamented.]
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You need a... jeanne? Is that food, or a pillow, or something? [Confuuuusion. Plus, sleepiness. He's not trying to be insensitive. Really.]
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[He glared over at the watch, his breath quickly growing heavy, his teeth bared before he growled and slammed his blood-covered hand over the watch, shutting it.
It was partially because of you and what you said, yes, America - but he never wanted people to see him like this. That pissed him off the most - his mask had been chipped into.]
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Old man, do you need anything?
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...non...ah, merde...
[He sits back against his bed and puts a hand over his eyes.
.....'ow long has zis damned zing been broadcasting.
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[She's quiet for a while to allow him to compose himself, then points at his chest]
Honestly though, France, are you sure you don't need anything?
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[He was hurting. He'd quite forgotten for the moment that Jeanne was even here. But...as a Frenchman...he could still attempt to hold on to that infamous stubborn pride that England loathed so much, and that he found equally irritable about the Briton. Especially now. Whenever his mind flashed back to those furious green eyes, the bleeding seemed to grow stronger.]
[A sigh.] ...
[But then, not many pains were like these. Jeanne was alive, and here he was, still grieving.]
...I don't know...
[The end of 'know' is broken in two by another sob he couldn't quite restrain.]
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...but the voice, the accent, he knew he'd heard it. Which on of the filthy bastards was it - perhaps it was Arthur. He hoped it wasn't. It better not have been. He knew what day it was. He picks it up.]
....I'm sorry you 'ad to see zat.
[And he shuts the watch.]
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...'allo, monsieur...
[His lips twitched a bit but he couldn't quite fake a smile just yet.]
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Francis? It's okay, let it out.
[Aqua really doesn't like seeing him like this but she'd never dream of ignoring him while he's like this.]
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But this was Aqua. And he wasn't at home...
...he hated people seeing him cry. Hell, he hated people seeing him frown, unless he was being rude to them. He wasn't a fan of dumping his drama on others, either. But...
He stayed there for a moment before moving to sit back against the bed. Blood ran between his fingers from the wound over his heart. He was trying not to cry now - she was here, he remembered. Jeanne was here, and she was safe. Right next door.
...it still hurt.]
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Do you want anything? Can I do anything for you?
[Her voice was thick with concern, any thoughts of sleeping were gone with worrying over her friend.]
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[He shut his eyes, innerly sighing at himself. Damn it...she didn't need to- ...but she was already here, and worried and awake.]
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France...?
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...non- ah...
[There's a quiet curse in French before he reaches over and grabs the watch, shutting it.
...mulling it over, he sets the feed to Audio.]
Just a nightmare, chere worry not.
[Unfortunately, he can't bring himself to make his voice sound reassuring. It's very low, and monotonous - not like France at all.]
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