[ The idea that there was some level of control on when the Moonblessed arrived and departed was worrying on several levels for France. Was there intent behind it? Was it related to something back home? He could probably speculate just as much as Austria was about split consciousness. They could go on, in circles, all evening, but he's fairly sure they'd only raise more questions than answers. He'd had his own thoughts when he'd returned to oblivious colleagues. Perhaps it was an issue of time -- and as nations, they should know that time was strange.
Not this strange, though.
He's just sitting there with his lantern and an impending crisis when Austria grabs his attention with that question. Maybe it's the concern he reads off of his companion that makes him pause and frown. Shared crisis, apparently, was dessert. ]
Are you trying to tell me that you're thinking this is all in my head? Of course, you are real. I have no clue what you're talking about. [ He sounds a bit firm but not out of annoyance for Austria's concern. He misses home. He does not miss the idea of trying to win this man over all over again, which he'd contemplated, surely. Stubborn. ] I mean, I did not know that you were styling costumes. That sounds quite lovely, actually.
[ As France is a fan of lace and general fancy things, he'll probably end up harassing Austria to show him some of his designs later given that he's not snatched up again before that's possible. Some tension that had begun to crawl back into his muscles ceases when the brunet calls him crude. He twists slightly on the bench causing their knees to brush and he offers a (non)apologetic shrug. ]
You say it is crude. I say it is effective. Now -- [ He trails off, his lips twitching with a smile he tries to hide while Austria is going on about placebo effects. Such consideration for something they would both scream false in less than five minutes. In truth, he hadn't even looked at the key himself. ] -- Ah. That's quite vivid, isn't it?
[ It was a lovely shade of red. Like a bouquet of lush roses; the kind even he would feel giddy over receiving. His focus is rather intent at the point between them, and while he wants to agree with Austria he can't help but feel he's horribly wrong. It takes a second to connect the dots -- and when he does it's for the wrong reasons. He looks from the lantern to Austria and just stares for a moment. What a mess. ]
You were angry when I left? Why?! [ It's easy for him to be defensive but in the end, they're just a bunch of hypocrites. ] I would have expected you to be worried, perhaps, but angry?
[ This lantern is surely a cursed object meant to raise a fuss. He leans in slightly, squinting to make out the key in the dusk. He's going to ignore the fact that he thinks he's sweating under the light jacket. It's spring here, right? He'd underestimated the chance for warm evenings so early, that was all!
The way his brow jerks upward kind of screams 'panicked-but-trying-to-hide-it'. Looks like France found out that red did not, in any way, stand for anger. He looks away from the lantern and from his dinner date to a weirdly starless sky. ]
Why don't we just... launch this, hm? They're supposed to help with whatever issue is going on up there.
[ There might be a rushed, muttered "It certainly isn't helping down here", under his breath. He should be happy, but for some reason 'overwhelmed' is a better word for it. ]
no subject
Not this strange, though.
He's just sitting there with his lantern and an impending crisis when Austria grabs his attention with that question. Maybe it's the concern he reads off of his companion that makes him pause and frown. Shared crisis, apparently, was dessert. ]
Are you trying to tell me that you're thinking this is all in my head? Of course, you are real. I have no clue what you're talking about. [ He sounds a bit firm but not out of annoyance for Austria's concern. He misses home. He does not miss the idea of trying to win this man over all over again, which he'd contemplated, surely. Stubborn. ] I mean, I did not know that you were styling costumes. That sounds quite lovely, actually.
[ As France is a fan of lace and general fancy things, he'll probably end up harassing Austria to show him some of his designs later given that he's not snatched up again before that's possible. Some tension that had begun to crawl back into his muscles ceases when the brunet calls him crude. He twists slightly on the bench causing their knees to brush and he offers a (non)apologetic shrug. ]
You say it is crude. I say it is effective. Now -- [ He trails off, his lips twitching with a smile he tries to hide while Austria is going on about placebo effects. Such consideration for something they would both scream false in less than five minutes. In truth, he hadn't even looked at the key himself. ] -- Ah. That's quite vivid, isn't it?
[ It was a lovely shade of red. Like a bouquet of lush roses; the kind even he would feel giddy over receiving. His focus is rather intent at the point between them, and while he wants to agree with Austria he can't help but feel he's horribly wrong. It takes a second to connect the dots -- and when he does it's for the wrong reasons. He looks from the lantern to Austria and just stares for a moment. What a mess. ]
You were angry when I left? Why?! [ It's easy for him to be defensive but in the end, they're just a bunch of hypocrites. ] I would have expected you to be worried, perhaps, but angry?
[ This lantern is surely a cursed object meant to raise a fuss. He leans in slightly, squinting to make out the key in the dusk. He's going to ignore the fact that he thinks he's sweating under the light jacket. It's spring here, right? He'd underestimated the chance for warm evenings so early, that was all!
The way his brow jerks upward kind of screams 'panicked-but-trying-to-hide-it'. Looks like France found out that red did not, in any way, stand for anger. He looks away from the lantern and from his dinner date to a weirdly starless sky. ]
Why don't we just... launch this, hm? They're supposed to help with whatever issue is going on up there.
[ There might be a rushed, muttered "It certainly isn't helping down here", under his breath. He should be happy, but for some reason 'overwhelmed' is a better word for it. ]