snickers. Oh, you old bags. 8D

glares at him, eyebrows furrowed in distaste. "What is that supposed to mean, America?"

"Um..." He stares at you as though you're missing the most obvious thing... which you kinda are. "That... you're old geezers, duh.~"

His eyebrows twitch, making them appear even more similiar to catepillars. A malicious aura that might be capable of rivaling Russia's

emanates from his glare and he takes as he takes a challenging step towards America. "Just because you are a superpower and no longer my

ward does NOT give you the right to talk about me that way...I've been alive for longer than you, yes, but I'm all the wiser because of it."

snorts, really quite disbelieving of what you just said... and... uh... why are you looking at him like that? He blinks. Did you want

something? "Uh, yeah, Artie, that just means you're senile. You are not wise. Nuh-uh!" He coughs. "If you were then maybe your scones

would have improved by now. Haha!"

No, this ignorant set of insults was not something the British Empire was going to take sitting down. Taking another step towards the burger

-munching, loud-mouthed nation, his lips quirked into a mischevious, almost cynic smile. "You really never change, do you, Alfred? Well..if

you apoligize, I suppose I'll let you off easy this time."

"Hn?" He looks at you with a questioning, innocent look on his face. "Apologize for what, geezer?"

His smirk only widens at the genuine innocence on the American's face-oh, if only he had a camera to capture the purely IDIOTIC expression.

"For insulting me, of course...unless you'd rather face the, ah...consequences~..."

pulls out a burger from his jacket and begins munching on it. "Hn? What consequences? You're weird today, Artie. v.v" Er,

weirder than normal, that is.

winces inwardly at the sight of the ever-present prescence of the heartburn-on-a-bun in America's life, reaching up and knocking the sad

excuse for a sandwhich out of his hand. "Come now, Alfred, you can't be THAT ignorant...just apoligize so I can take my leave."

"Hey! That wasn't nice!" He gives you a look of annoyance before pulling another one out of his jacket. Serves you right, jerk! "Ehhh?

Apologize for what, Artie? The hero should always tell the truth! And... the truth is... you're a geezer! : D"

And that, England decides, is the final straw. Damn geography, damn the economy, damn the ancient civilizations and damn America's boss-

this was not something he was going to take from ANYONE, ignorant burger-eating bastard in particular. With the intention of telling the

rest of the universe to go fuck itself, Arthur pounced on Alfred like a cougar on its prey, emerald eyes brimming with a flame that hadn't

been seen since his pirate days.

gasps as England - England - jumps on him out of nowhere, knocking the burger out of his hand. ... This dude owed him two for two now,

seriously. Oh, right, England. He frowns a bit as he's attacked, neatly sidestepping and holding you from behind, an action that almost

takes no effort on his part. "Dude, dude, what the hell! Calm down! Are you grumpy coz you didn't have your tea today, or something?"

lets out a frustrated cry, struggling against the American's hold and spouting a fair amount of creative swear words. "You inconsiderate,

ignorant, insufferable twat!! Y-You know VERY well why I'm upset!! Let me go!!" Unable to regain his composure, England writhes and flails,

uselessly banging his fists against the other man's back. "S-Stupid America.."

stays still and chews calmly while watching you flail (your strength sucks, England), allowing you to talk a bit while he slowly munches.

shrugs. Your insults don't... bother him... much... "Yo, Artie, calm down, will ya'?" He tentatively lets go. "You don't need to be so

sensitive about your age. What're you, an old woman?" He snickers. Okay, maybe... he wasn't making this better for himself.

stumbles backward, just barely catching himself, face still as red as a hooker's dress. Alright, perhaps that wasn't the BEST simile, but

he wasn't the 'perverted ambassador' for nothing-most of the thoughts running through his mind right now were raunchy, to say the least.

"For the last time, you twat, I am not old!! Take that back!!"

doesn't wanna know what goes on in your head.. he... really doesn't. Though since you usually scream them at him they

aren't really "thoughts". "But you are! Besides," he pauses, chewing thoughtfully. "If you weren't old, then you wouldn't have been able to

take care of us, right? o.o"

focuses his gaze on the floor, willing the blush away from his cheeks and trying to think of cold winter days and Greece eating cats. Right,

those were un-sexy things, he could do this...letting out a tired sigh, England shakes his head, absently massaging his aching temples. "Yes

,but just because I've been alive for a long time does not make me old. It simply means that I am...durable."

fails to see the difference. "Oh, so like... plastic? Plastic's durable, right? 8D" He snickers. "So... you're like plastic? That's

awesome dude. Do you have some voodoo plastic powers then? : D" Damn, Artie was holding out on him.

Plastic? Now the moron was comparing him to bloody Ziploc material?? Why, oh why did he put up with this insufferable American? "No,

you twat...I mean 'durable' as in the Latin word 'durus'- strong-willed, not easily broken." Honestly, it was no wonder he had difficulty

being honest around the man-if there was one thing he was adept at, it was misinterpreting everything.

"... so... like... plastic." He gives you something of a deadpanned look. "It's not easily broken. =3= Seriously, dude, I won't tell

anyone if you're some sort of mutant with plastic powers!" Plus that'd probably explain why you see ... flying bunnies.

Oh, that was the last straw. Throwing his hands into the air with frenzied despair, Arthur turned around without another word and began to

walk away-really, was the idiot even remotely capable of reading the atmosphere? Tch, obviously not...he couldn't even have an intellegent

conversation with the man!

chuckles and grins to himself as you leave, innocently taking another bite out of his food. Waving slowly as you leave, he thinks that

that was probably the longest conversation you'd had. Snickering, he turns to call the CIA, planning on placing some

cameras around your house to see if you were hiding any... mutant powers.

heads upstairs as soon as he gets home, flopping down as uncouthly as possible onto the mattress. For his sake, they might as well redefine

the word 'exhausted'-his workload has been ridiculous lately to say the least,and now all he wants to do is sink into the abyss of sleep..

But, unfortunately, that would require for him to relax, something that he is terrible at.