When you seek advice, go to the best master in the field you know.

[maple_syrup_can]

Who: Canada and Italy
maple_syrup_can, p_p_p_pasta
What: This is serious. Canada is getting dating advice from Italy. (Provided the guy can notice Canada first.)
When: December 26, early afternoon
Where: Class Act
Warnings: none, I hope...

Comments

[p_p_p_pasta]

At first, Italy thought that somehow, and against all odds, his new 'I will eat nothing but pasta and gelato for breakfast, lunch and dinner, just try and stop me' diet had made him grow super macho over the past couple of months. After all, he just opened up a heavy kitchen door with nothing but the strength of his big toe and a mighty roar (re: whimper).

So when what he could only describe as a vague silhouette manifested itself in front of him, he felt his ego deflate a little.

That was, of course, just before the intense fear set in.

Italy suddenly lurched forward (complete with crates full of tomatoes, onions, and some strange purple things that he'd never seen before), shrieking in surprise and terror. Dutifully, he threw himself to the floor, prostrating at Canada's feet.

"DON'T HURT ME, MR. KITCHEN GHOST!!! PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU!!!"

[maple_syrup_can]

"I-Italy--"

Surprised that it was Italy and not some animal that had come through the door, he was completely unprepared for what happened next. He tried to reach out and catch some of the food at it went tumbling past him, but he only managed to break the fall of a box of purple stuff. (What was it anyways?)

But dealing with Italy was more trouble than dealing with the scattered produce. 'Kitchen ghost'?!

"Italy, it's Canada. Canada." Trying very hard to control his disgruntlement (he was here to ask a favour, after all), Canada knelt down close to Italy. "Canada, you know? Of course I'm not gonna hurt you."

[p_p_p_pasta]

Immediately, Italy's wailing stopped and he gazed upward with a happy grin.

"Oh, hey, Canada! When did you get here?" he chirruped, leaning back to sit on his behind instead.

Unfortunately, the happiness was shortlived when Italy noticed the boxes and their contents scattered all about the kitchen floor. The scene before him nothing less than a tomato massacre of epic proportions.

"My... my tomatoes...!"

[maple_syrup_can]

"When did I--" His incredulous repetition of Italy's question got cut off by the guy suddenly wailing over the tomatoes. Okay, so Italy had never noticed him before at shift change. For a whole month. ...Never mind.
Looking over the scattered food he sighed.

"Sorry. I'll give you a hand..."