Characters: England, Roy Mustang, Spain, Prussia, Winry Rockbell
Where: Death City Heights lobby, over to Casualty Communal 1I
Rating: PG (for now)
Time: Friday, July 16, morning
Description: After arriving in Death City, Spain's first goals are to check up on Prussia and the Italies. Of course, he has no idea as to where his friends are! Out of
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"I'm a generous guy so I guess I can share this time." Even though Prussia was smiling, his eyes were saying something else. They were daring the others to say what they needed to say. Questions? Pff, he was ready for them. He was not afraid to answer. It was obvious that England was extremely discontent and Spain was troubled by what he was seeing. So if they wanted to say something now, they could.
Especially since he now had beer. Delicious, cold, foamy German beer...
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He reached down to retrieve another beer for the white-haired nation, shaking his head. As he offered it to Prussia, he turned his attention towards England.
"What about you, Inglaterra?"
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It was clear to the other countries that England was agitated. It showed on his face even after only a little bit of probing.
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And if their probing didn't get answers, at least it riled England up. Spain took some amount of pleasure in provoking him like this, alongside Prussia.
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He finally sat down on the bed beside his partner, but with his back toward Spain. This... He just wanted people to leave him alone. Was that too much to ask? After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke. "Idiot," he muttered ever so quietly. "Fucking idiot. And your brother."
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He kept quiet, settling back in his chair and easily lifting his leg so that he could rest an ankle on his knee. Taking a drink from his beer, he leaned over the side of the chair to grab another, just in case Prussia needed it (for either himself, or the stewing nation next to him).
"I didn't catch it, myself." And that was all he offered, for the moment. Perhaps a couple beers and Prussia could crack England...
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"I said your brother!" he snarled, suddenly leaning into Prussia's personal bubble. He looked angry for a while, then noticed the arm and backed off. Right. What was England yelling at his partner for? After he did such a thing to him.
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He was quiet for several moments, rubbing at his forehead. "He came to get me on the day of your surgery," England finally said, sighing. "Even went as far as lifting me off the ground and throwing me over his shoulder."
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They were such selfish reasons.
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