Tricolour
America grinned down at the flag wrapped around his shoulders.
"You sure this is okay? I mean.... there's no way in hell I'd let you use mine for a towel."
France rolled his eyes, swinging round on his chair. "You've always been so sensitive about it."
"I'm just.... proud of it," he huffed, sitting down, cross legged. "It represents me."
"You
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