Sport was fairly universal - no matter where you came from. This thought struck Mira as she wandered past the lounge, kitted out in a comfortably oversized hoodie and a pair of ratty denim shorts (and seemingly oblivious to the chill of the October weather). She hovered by the door, curious, as she tried to work out exactly who was playing...
Not recognising either of the teams, she finally walked into the room. Vaulting athletically over the back of the couch Mira sat cross-legged and eagerly peered at the television screen.
"Hockey, right? Who are we cheering for?" She threw Matt a curious glance, recognising him from a couple of classes and briefly considering whether to sneak some of his snacks or not.
Matthew spared a glance when someone landed on the couch beside him and he even scooted over a little to give more room. He wasn't even sure if anyone else liked hockey here. It wasn't a big sport in most places. He couldn't even recall how he got into it. Something about Papa and Quebec.
"Montreal. The Canadiens." He tucked a leg up, waiting impatiently through the pre-game nonsense, "Versus the Buffalo Sabres, but I'm for the Canadiens." This was all said with a vaguely French accent that always popped up whenever he said a single French word.
"Never seen a game before in my life," Mira said cheerfully, giving Matt a quick grin. "Not that it's gonna stop me from watching it; I mean, hey, I'm at a news school, might as well branch out in my viewing habits right?"
Being sharper on the uptake than she looked, Mira noticed the slight French accent. "You sound French," she said, stating the obvious. "Are you from Canada? Are they your home team or something?"
"I figured." He grinned and waved a hand at the television, "It's pretty easy to follow so you shouldn't have much trouble." He settled himself again, moving the thermos and snacks just so, so he wouldn't knock them off if he stood suddenly.
"Hmn?" He looked up, all trace of french accent gone, "Oh no, I'm from England. The French is just from Papa, he's from France. He taught me some and the rest I picked up from listening to him. I...just pick up accents very easily." He laughed, shrugging it off. It'd never occurred to him that watching Canadian teams would make people think he was from Canada.
"They're just my favorite team, that's all." His attention was slowly being dragged back to the television and he was trying very hard to be polite and watch the game's start at the same time.
At some point in the week, Lovino had finally managed to get back his courage to go outside of his room, though everyone who glanced at him, or whispered around him has been meet with a fierce glare. Were they talking about him? Did they somehow know? Bastards. If... If they did there was going to be hell to pay. Somehow, he'd get them. Right?
When he saw Matt curled up on the Italian froze, debating whether or not to continue. He did want to watch the game, Udinese was playing Inter Milan, but... Matthew was there, in the room with the one tv that would be most likely to get it. Matthew that he'd sort of been avoiding. Um. Shit.
Fuck. Huffing softly, Lovino headed over the couch, picking the remote up. Refusing to even glance at the boy, he began to flick through the channels, hunting for the familiar colours of Inter, ignoring the way his cheeks slowly began to flush red, his whole face in fact.
Matthew blinked, barely noticing the Italian sitting beside him until he picked up the remote. Then the channels started changing and-
"Hey I was watching that." He was faced with the interesting dilemma of wanting Lovino's company and wanting to watch his freaking hockey, dammit. His face clouded over as he weighed it out in his head. Hockey or Lovino. Lovino or Hockey. He settled for both, by grabbing Lovino and his precious remote and flicking back through the channels as he held onto his prize.
"There." He curled back up happily and trained his eyes on the television again.
Lovino shouted- Shouted dammit, not shrieked, there was no shrieks at all -when Matt grabbed him, the english boy pulling him over easily. Frowning- it was a frown dammit, not a fucking pout, men didn't pout - he wiggled, snatching the remote back. "There's a football game in Italia I want to watch dammit. Inter Milan verses Udinese. Inter better fucking win."
The channels began to change again, Lovino flicking through the crap to try and find the colours of his team.
Matthew reached back out for the remote automatically, heedless of how close he got or how this would look to anyone else, as he relentlessly pursued his hockey. Part of him felt guilty for depriving Lovino of his heritage and their sport of choice, but the other part wanted to know if Montreal won.
"Canadiens versus Sabers and if you stop me from watching it, I'll..." Matt realized then that his threats were very limited. The most he could do is look pouty and talk sternly. He sighed and gave up on the remote, laying where he had been, draped vaguely over Lovino and pouted, "Mais mes Canadiens..." He whined softly.
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Not recognising either of the teams, she finally walked into the room. Vaulting athletically over the back of the couch Mira sat cross-legged and eagerly peered at the television screen.
"Hockey, right? Who are we cheering for?" She threw Matt a curious glance, recognising him from a couple of classes and briefly considering whether to sneak some of his snacks or not.
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"Montreal. The Canadiens." He tucked a leg up, waiting impatiently through the pre-game nonsense, "Versus the Buffalo Sabres, but I'm for the Canadiens." This was all said with a vaguely French accent that always popped up whenever he said a single French word.
"Don't follow hockey, do you?"
Reply
Being sharper on the uptake than she looked, Mira noticed the slight French accent. "You sound French," she said, stating the obvious. "Are you from Canada? Are they your home team or something?"
Reply
"Hmn?" He looked up, all trace of french accent gone, "Oh no, I'm from England. The French is just from Papa, he's from France. He taught me some and the rest I picked up from listening to him. I...just pick up accents very easily." He laughed, shrugging it off. It'd never occurred to him that watching Canadian teams would make people think he was from Canada.
"They're just my favorite team, that's all." His attention was slowly being dragged back to the television and he was trying very hard to be polite and watch the game's start at the same time.
Reply
When he saw Matt curled up on the Italian froze, debating whether or not to continue. He did want to watch the game, Udinese was playing Inter Milan, but... Matthew was there, in the room with the one tv that would be most likely to get it. Matthew that he'd sort of been avoiding. Um. Shit.
Fuck. Huffing softly, Lovino headed over the couch, picking the remote up. Refusing to even glance at the boy, he began to flick through the channels, hunting for the familiar colours of Inter, ignoring the way his cheeks slowly began to flush red, his whole face in fact.
Reply
"Hey I was watching that." He was faced with the interesting dilemma of wanting Lovino's company and wanting to watch his freaking hockey, dammit. His face clouded over as he weighed it out in his head. Hockey or Lovino. Lovino or Hockey. He settled for both, by grabbing Lovino and his precious remote and flicking back through the channels as he held onto his prize.
"There." He curled back up happily and trained his eyes on the television again.
Reply
The channels began to change again, Lovino flicking through the crap to try and find the colours of his team.
Reply
"Canadiens versus Sabers and if you stop me from watching it, I'll..." Matt realized then that his threats were very limited. The most he could do is look pouty and talk sternly. He sighed and gave up on the remote, laying where he had been, draped vaguely over Lovino and pouted, "Mais mes Canadiens..." He whined softly.
Reply
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