take a stab at trying to find the little fella.

nods a little brusquely, offering him the plate. "Please," he says, indicating that he should help himself. "It's intended to be torn; the_

aim is to find the king." At least he's stopped scowling before wishing the other, "Good luck."

watches the other with amusement, eyebrow rising when the other stops scowling. 'Ta, I think I will.' He tears off one of the rolls, 'What_

happens when I find the King?' He looks down at the cake and then up at Switzerland, waiting for an answer.

almost glares at the other's amusement, before attempting a subtle and largely unsuccesful calming breath. "The person who finds the_

figure becomes king for a day. It's tradition," he explains.

hums, 'I like the sound of that...' He raises an eyebrow at the calming technique, stepping closer. 'If I become King, does that mean you_

have to do anything I request?' he asks, perhaps giving Switzerland a discreet look up and down.

clenches his fists and moves his right hand to his hip to rest on the pistol at his hip in an appaling effort to conceal or mitigate his_

building rage. "That question is irrelevant unless you're crowned," he manages through gritted teeth. He's pretty sure it's not treason to_

kill a king crowned by a cake.

looks down with the movement, taking a small step back a moment later. He's not a complete idiot, it seems. 'Better see if I'm a lucky sod,_

then, eh?' he replies with a wink, taking a bite of his cake. Before he can even hum in appreciation at the taste, he makes a sound of_

triumph. 'Found him,' he chimes behind a hand covering his mouth.

a little dissapointed he didn't hurt himself on it; it might have saved some effort. "Congratulations," he manages grudgingly. It almost_

sounds sincere. He takes the foil paper crown from the table...and hesitates, having not quite considered the logistics. Unwilling to_

sacrifice his dignity over this, he instead thrusts it at the taller nation's chest.

catches on rather quickly, chuckling under his breath. He soon places the crown on his head, slightly crooked and chimes out, 'Ta~' He looks

genuinely pleased with himself, and may already be plotting his rule >D.

doesn't appreciate the other's amusement; he reminds himself that shooting him inside wouldn't be worth the cleaning up afterwards. His hand

tightens on his still-hostered gun regardless. He frowns momentarily at the lopsided crown, before responding. "Don't mention it."

adjusts the crown, but it only ends up more lopsided. 'So... do I actually get to make demands? Or is it more of a token thing?'

shakes his head at the other, shrugging slightly. "Traditionally, the king is permitted to issue commands, if he so chooses. So long as he

continues to wear the crown, at least."

smirks, 'Then a cup of tea would be brill, right about now. If you don't mind.' He would start out small, seeing Switzerland had his hand_

on the gun still.

takes a moment to scrutinise the request, before deeming it reasonable and grudgingly obliging. "How do you prefer your tea?" he asks,_

having begun heating the kettle. It's likely to be weaker than he's used to. He reaches for a cup; concentrating on the tea, his hand is no_

longer on the gun.

makes his way over, hand on the counter as he leans over Switzerland slightly to see what he's doing. 'How you have it will be fine,' he_

replies, hand deftly plucking the gun out of Switzerland's holster, hopefully without him noticing. He thinks the fact that he's leaning in_

perhaps a little too close will hopefully be distraction enough.

putting a generic teabag in a cup; he's well aware it can't be that fascinating. Suspicious, he tries to face the other, only to upset the_

cup he's preparing. "O-Oi," he starts, righting it again. "You're in the way." He gestures, irritated, towards the cutlery drawer Scotland_

is currently blocking, in an attempt to move him away. Already off-balance, he hasn't quite noticed the absence of the familiar weight at_

his hip yet.

steps out of the way, with an apology. The gun is tucked into his waist band and settled at the small of his back, his shirt obscuring_

it from sight. 'I didn't mean to get in your way Switzerland.' Which is completely what he intended to do, and the off-kilter response he_

recieves in return is rather delightful.

manages an annoyed aknowledgement as he proceed to open the drawer, not quite caring if it catches the other any more. Something definitely_

wrong now but, kettle in hand, he can't quite place it. He fills the cup, giving the bag a few squeezes with the newly-liberated spoon_

before removing it. A final few stirs and he presents it to the other. "Here," he says, shortly. Apparently he takes his tea plain; the look

he fixes Scotland with almost dares him to comment.

replies with a grin, and chimes out a Ta. Leaning against the counter he has a look around, he had never been very good with backing down_

dares afterall, 'You wouldn't have any milk or sugar would you? Or are you too straight laced to own either,' he asks, hiding his smirk_

behind a sip of tea. He looks the other up and down, wondering briefly where else he stored a gun.