with Pakistan.

It isn't his fault that William LOST. |: He's going to knock his lights out when he gets ahold of him. |:< First stealing his good tea, --

then breaking the picture of his queen, and NOW breaking his window. e_e

currently lying on England's bed, texting Canuck for the hell of it. Did he mention he's covered in dirt, head. to. toe.

FFFFFFFFF. He's in the garden right now, and is heading into the house. I: He's going to bloody KILL HIM. U:<

if he noticed the ruined rose bushes... and how he's destroying his virgin bed with suggestive texts to Canada. England's and bed are_

mentioned.

actually the one killing England's flowerbed as he walks away.

a blowtorch.

......has quite a bit of killing to do today, doesn't he?

take a gander through England's bedside drawers while he waits for... well something to happen.

finally stomps into the bedroom, holding a sharp pair of pruning shears. |:< "Get. The bloody hell. Off my bed."

[FFF LATE disregard that.]

now in the bedroom, eyeing William with a murderous glare, pruning shears in hand, "Get out."

looks up and then back at the drawer, 'Why... don't you want me to visit?'

grits his teeth, his free hand balled into a fist. "You can visit when you're properly clean and you can restrain yourself from destroying -

my property. Now get the bloody hell /out/."

's phone breaks out with 'Canadian please' as he's about to reply. He fishes out his phone, eyebrows raising at the equally suggestive text_

's free hand points to the door. "Out."

in response. 'Look here England,' he says, shoving the phone in his face. That is him and Canada texting about doing very naughty things_

in England's formally white virginal sheets.

's eyes widen, and suddenly narrow. He snatches the phone from him and throws it to the floor, watching some of the pieces break off. --

obviously not amused. Serves him right, acting so horribly. "OUT."

scrambles to the floor, looking gutted. That had all his pictures with friends and Matthew. He picks up the phone, checking the memory card_

intact. 'I'll be fucking going, and I won't be bloody back.' he stomps off, kicking an expensive looking vase over on the way out.

probably be regretting that. He waits for William to get off the premises fully, though, with a derisive expression. He so obviously --

does not trust him.

him the middle finger as he leaves.

huffs, "Right bloody back at you." He comes back to his room, sighing and sitting on his horribly dirty bed now. He really doesn't feel--

like doing the bloody laundry now. Damn that immature brat.