Then it would be a perfectly good day to pick on him.

it would not be a perfect day to pick on him. D=

it is a good day. Francis couldn't really say *no*, can he?

not a weakling. He will stand up for himself.

except that he can't speak up for himself. HAHA. "Oi, France... whot're ye so quiet fer?"

him a glare and crosses his arms, but doesn't answer.

"Is this tha *silent treatment*?" He crosses his arms and glares at him in the same manner.

still does not say anything but, just, motions to his throat, obviously annoyed at the whole situation.

stares for a while before getting the point. "Oh. How tha fuck did ye lose yer voice? Is 'cause ye blab so fuckin' much. I told ye that'd_

happen, aye?"

rolls his eyes and glares once more.

can talk a lot for someone who has nothing to say. "Barmpot." He thinks for a moment. "Wont summat wine? Might help yer voice."

no idea what a Barmpot is, but nods at the idea of wine, brightening up at the idea.

cracks his knuckles and walks off to find some. He comes back with two glasses of bordeaux. " 'ere ye go."

grins at the wine, taking a glass and giving him a nod of thanks.

"But ye gotta at least try, aye?" He takes a sip of the wine. " 'cause fuck if I kin read ye mind."

nods, chuckling as much as he can without a voice, and takes a sip.

grins and takes another sip. Good God, he's ever careful about sipping wine. He'll wait though. Must sound terrible.

knows his voice sounds horrible--he's heard himself talk in the mirror. He takes another sip of wine. He knows it

probably won't help too much, but...wine!

Only France would talk to himself at the mirror. He takes another sip too, almost finishing his glass. He knows wine won't help him but_

it was an excuse to drink something.

, of course, talks to himself in the mirror! How else can he make sure he sound sexy and amorous? He takes one last

sip, finishing his glass, looking back at James expectantly for another glass.

"Another?" He grumbles and takes the glass away from him. Only France. He fills the glass again--His too of course and hands him the refill.

him a spectacular smile in thanks, taking the glass from him.

mumbles something about him being 'stupid' and 'cute'. "After tha'on, ye gotta sing or somethin'. Ta soothe out yer chords."

snorts, but takes another sip. He is not going to sing, especially when his voice is almost gone.

make him sing. Or say something. France already said he would! James starts to sing in bad French. "J'en boirai, oui, oui, oui!"

winces at his horrible French, resisting the urge to correct him. Such horrible butchering of his beautiful languague...

grins widely. Oh, he knows this. That's why he continues to do so, "J'en boirai jusqu'à mon plaisir!" He hasn't practiced in ages.

can not help himself. He knows that it's exactly what James wants from him, but he simply can not stand

for someone mispronouncing his language. "J'en boire jusqu'à mon plaisir." He doesn't sing it, it only says it, but

even so, his voice is scratchy and raspy, as though he hasn't used it in ages.

Wow, he didn't expect it to sound that bad. But--He won't say anything about it. "Goûtons voir si le vin est bon!" Hey, at least he learned_

it, which can go unsaid for his brothers.

to give him props for that. And for not saying anything about his voice. He'd love to sing the song with James, but even *he* can't stand

his own voice. So, he takes another sip of his wine, pointedly saying nothing.

stops abruptly, disappointed at Francis' lack of spirit. "Oi, ye dinnae sound tha' bad. Jes clear ye throat an try talkin' again." He_

tilts his glass way up to finish the last bits of his second glass. "S'good shite."

just gives him an amused look and finishes his glass. He then hands his glass towards him once more, smirking.

takes the glass, and stares at Francis with one brow raised, curiously. "Whot're ye smilin' aboot?"

obviously expects another drink. Though, he mentally notes that James pronounces the word "about" just like Canada and to ask

about that when he has his voice back.

Nothing's wrong with ABOOT. "Fuck, I give up. Can't get ye to shite. Damned lazy Frenchie." He was not going to pour anymore, France.

laughs and goes to pour himself another glass. However, since his voice is gone, his laugh is more throaty and scratchy than normal.

throws his arms up in the air in defeat--until he grins at a thought that just came over. He approached France closely. Oddly silent.

pours himself and own glass of wine, not hearing Scotland follow him.

grinning ear to ear at his successful stealth. He comes up from behind and grabs at his sides, hoping to poke at some ticklish spots.

a gasp, more out of surprise than anything else, and tries to wiggle out of his grasp, holding back his laughter....for now.

hands go further up, continuing his search for a ticklish spot--perhaps around his neck area. "Com'on ye git, I know ye can't hold it innn."

, despite his attempts otherwise, starts laughing. He tries to push Scotland's hands away, still trying to wiggle away.

moved to under his arms, purposely. "Dinnae spill tha' drink! It might stain yer fancy clothes!"

attempts to give him a glare though his laughter. "Then don't do that!" He manages to get out through his laughter and lack of voice.

pulls his hands away, grinning that he achieved to make him speak. "Thar ye go. Won'nit so hard, wossit?"

rolls his eyes at him, resisting the urge to dump his glass of wine on him. That would be *such* a waste of wine. "Haha,

you are so funny." He rasps out, dryly.

"Wosn't tryna be funny." He blew a raspberry at his direction. "Dinnae be so sour. So whot if ye have a littl' sore throat?"

can't even stand the sound of his own voice, other people aren't going to stand it either.

flattens his lips and shrugs. "Foine, stay by yer lonesome self!" He's going off to drink the rest of that wine, though~

not going to let him take the bottle of wine away from him. =|

well he'll have to fight him for it. Scotland loves wine, sorry.

points out that the wine is *from* France, and therefore belongs to him.

points out that he's the biggest investor in French wine, so he should have his pick.

stop exporting his wine to him.

WHAT!? WHY? THAT'S STUPID. GLAAARE.

him a smirk. "Then I'll be taking the wine then, oui?" He rasps.

maybe he should buy PORT WINE, instead. "Bloody prick." How could you, France.

he WOULDN'T. =| There's a reason Scotland's his biggest investor, not Portugal's. Obviously his wine is better.

Don't give him a reason to invest. He KNOWS French wine is the best. That--and he can't stand Portugal. So he can have wine, oui?

give him wine~ But just not this bottle. >3

.....Mumbles. That one was a good year too.

smiles and kisses his cheek. "Merci~" Mission accomplished.

brightens red, and crosses his arms. "Whotev'r."

chuckles at his blush and goes to pour another glass from HIS bottle of wine.

he's supposed to be the greedy one here...

isn't greedy. He just wants what is rightfully his.

what happened to sharing then! James did come here to make HIM feel better. HE DIDN'T HAVE TO, BUT HE DID.

what he wants, then. Other than the wine.

At first it was to tease France. But he doesn't want anything now. Except, hm, WINE.

his teasing plan backfired~ He smirks, taking a long sip of HIS wine.

it did backfire, didn't it? That's what he gets for being NICE. "C'mon, pour me a glass." He grumbles.

chuckles, shooting another smirk at him. "And what will I get in return, hmm?" His voice still sounds horrible, but he seems to gave gotten

how he sounds. For now.

Some friend he is. He crosses his arms. "I need ta give ye somethin'? Euh, I dinnae! Whiskey? Whot'dya wont?"

considers. "What do you have?"

shrugs. He can't offer anything, knowing France's completely different taste in things. "Whot're ye lookin fer?"

does not have much of a taste for alcohol, other than wine. Although, Scotland is more than free to pay him in... *other* ways. >3

no wonder Francis is so thin. James' face reddens again. Lets try to have modesty. "Ye wont me ta cook ye a dessert instead?"

*never* modest. He tilts his head to the side, curious. "Oh? What kind of dessert?"

*knows*. It's his Achilies heel. "Anythin' ye wont!" Don't trust his cooking, France. It's also quite horrific.

supposes his lack of cooking only makes sense, seeing as he IS related to England. Unless they make it together. Because France can

cook. Well. "Hmm. perhaps something with chocolate?"

less of a failure. He doesn't burn cereal. "Fine. But I dinnae know any chocolate recipies."

does! He can give Scotland his cookbook.to th

....his cook book to look through.*

scratches his head in thought. "I guess I kin try... all this fer a bloody glass o' wine!" He snatches the cookbook.

chuckles, watching him. He's going to watch him cook and make sure he doesn't mess up. He does not want to make a mess of his kitchen.

..........Be prepared to clean up a hurricane then. He rolls up his sleeves and heads off to the kitchen.

follows behind him, nervously. Oh, Mon Dieu, wht has he just agreed to?

what*

tossing out all ingredients needed to make some profiteroles.

stands to the sidw, watching him, arms crossed, nervously.

starts also tossing out ingredients that don't belong there onto the counter--surely just in case.

intervenes earlier than he thought he would. "Non, non! What are you doing?" He huffs, putting back the unnecessary ingredients.

"Whoooot?! 'Ey, whot're ye doin'!" He sighs, and continues on to jack up the oven while Francis puts away the things.

finishes putting away the wrong ingredients and getting out the right ones before turning to see what trouble James is getting into.

Okay, well he's mixing things now--Seriously, salt and sugar look the same. He'll just dump all of that in.

tries to grab his arm before he can do too much damage. "Non, mon ami, you use measuring cups for that... and you need sugar, not salt..."

wrinkles his nose. "But ye dinnae use any fricken' cups." He shrugs and proceeds to rumamge to look for them.

heaves a sigh and grabs a new bowl for them to mix into, putting the salt-mixture into the sink for now.

He frowns. "Whot about that bowl, then? We kin still use it--" He hates wasting anything. He holds up the measuring cups. "These?"

shakes his head. "Non. Not unless you prefer salty pastries." He nods. "Oui!"

"You don't?" He eats everything with salt. He shrugs and starts dumping in the ingredients in the much larger cups.

shakes his head. "Sweets are not meant to be *salty*." He explains. That's why they are *sweet*. He then just...stares at James.

"...Do you even know how to use a cookbook?"

had completely forgotten about the book. "Whot cookbook? Oh." He picks it up and scans it. "Well, it never really comes out as it says_

it should, aye?" Nope. He never uses one.

that would be why he is unable to cook. "Ecosse... You must use a cook book when you bake. Otherwise, your food will turn out

like Angleterre's."

made a face at the mention of England. "But... its in French." Even though he could clearly read French. The oven emitted a strong smell of_

heat since he had it on high, setting off the fire alarm. "Oh, *hell*."

had a reply for him, really he did. But then the fire alarm went off. He could do nothing but stand there helplessly, placing a hand over

his eyes and taking a deep breath. With his other hand, he pointed to the door. "Obtenir hors." He demanded.

grinned sheepishly and backed away from the upset Frenchman. "Aye, then! I won't touch a thing!" He steps out quietly.

takes a deep breath and slowly turns off the oven. He then grabs his phone to call the firefighters, telling them that,

No, there is no fire, just a moron trying to cook.

NOT A MORON. JUST CULINARY DEFICIENT.

he set off the fire alarm merely by turning on the OVEN. That takes a certain level of stupidity.

WELL IT NEEDED TO PRE-HEAT. He just wanted it to go faster......yeah he's got nothing.

that *all* he needs to do is to pay attention to the cook book. He does not understand how this is so hard. In an attempt

to calm himself down, he starts to clean the kitchen and the mess James somehow made despite the very few ingredients that are even open.