animus_network | One ⚜ Video

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[He seems a bit distracted as he settles down, seemingly confused. Then, with a startled sound he begins to mess with his hair. A series of muttered curses in French color his preening as he tries to plaster down stray hairs that do not exist, staring rather blankly after putting his hands down as if observing something. Hushed:] I look like a recluse! Mon dieu!

[Leans forward, more determined than ever. He goes from trying to plaster them down to brushing them down for more volume, letting that prized hair cascade like a boss. He finally leans back ten minutes later, seemingly quite pleased. Yes. You guessed correctly; he used the camera as an impromptu mirror, not quite understanding that it was broadcasting. Of course he's not quick to leave. He did just spend around 15 minutes fussing over his hair and getting up too quickly would 'disturb' it.]

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"The bed on the far right is mine, kinda in the corner." he smiled at France and laughed, shaking his head.

"Carnal desires, I think we all have those. Hell, I'd like to tap half of those female nations but they'd probably try to kill me later. But, I've resisted you before I can do it again, my friend."

Wandering over to the bed, Francis shot his friend with a troubled smile. It wasn't until he was settled comfortably on the edge, hands clasped loosely in his lap, that he chose to respond.

"I am surprised you have avoided getting yourself killed thus far, Prusse. These are desperate times, perhaps they would like a reminder that they are living." Francis and his usual banter went hand in hand. So did the underlying concern. For himself. It was quickly brushed aside to pout, leaning back on his hands. "You deny me too often, cher ange." A smirk.

"Hey, how little faith do you have in me? Of course I'm not going to get myself killed! Maimed, maybe but not killed." he smirked and rummaged around in the trunk at the foot of his bed. Pulling out a massive bottle of jager that would have most sensible nations wondering how it came in that size of a bottle, he set it near Francis on the bed.

"I only deny you because I don't know where you've been other than everywhere with everyone." he teased and gave the french man a wink and tossed him a pack of peach flavoured cigarettes. "Shut up and have a smoke, you're more handsom when you're quiet." he laughed.

Oh he'll take your cigarettes but not without smartly swatting the pale man in the arm, reaching into his pocket for a light. "I would have treated you special! You like it when I hold you, denial and all." Snorting, he placed the more than favorable cig between his lips, lighting it. He exhaled a plume of smoke in his friend's direction.

"Did you give it a name?" Yes, he's looking at the bottle large enough to be a small child.

Gilbert rolls his eyes and flops down beside Francis on the bed with a snort. "So don't like cuddling. Sex, fuck yea, but not so much on the cuddling." those were lies, both men knew it but Prussia had an appearance to uphold.

"The bottle? No, it's a bottle." he laughed and gave France a teasing shove.

Francis took in a deep breath, making a smoke ring. He was slowly calming himself, enough that he gave his friend a teasing grin. "It is only us, you do not have to pretend that you find no comfort in my arms~" Hey, his flirting wasn't broken.

He shifted, cigarette steady in his lips, taking the bottle in his hands. It is rather... impressive. "We will reconsider that after we have consumed all of its contents, non?" A grunt and he pouted lightly. "Save that for after, as well, hm?"

Edited 2011-08-30 19:07 (UTC)

"I don't know Frenchie, can you handle my five meters?" he gives his usual cheeky grin and snags the smoke from France's lips, taking a drag. "You remember how to drink that stuff? It's not like the wine you love so much." He leaned around his friend and flicked the ashes onto a plate he'd taken from the kitchens.

Francis huffed at that, now sans cigarette. "I suppose there is no other choice but to be able to handle it. Lord knows you can't handle mine." Low blow, but Gil just wasn't the kind to gracefully shove more than boot leather up his ass. Even that was questionable.

"You know, mon ami, I can drink more than wine. Whiskey was my second choice." Though he only got stuck with that because he'd been around the British so much in his past. He leaned out of the way of Gilbert's trek to the 'ashtray', snorting. "Stealing from the kitchens, Prusse?"

"Whiskey? Been spending a lot of time with Scotland again?" Prussia raised a snowy eyebrow at that. He'd never liked distilled bog water, he'd drink vodka before that and vodka still make him sick if he even smelled the substance.

"And the only reason I can't handle yours is that there isn't much there to start with." if France wanted to fight about it, Gilbert wasn't beyond the lowest of the low blows. and after taking another drag from the cancer-stick he handed it back to France. "Have to do something to keep me entertained."

"Hey, I have to go somewhere to complain about the youth when you are not around to drink myself stupid. Ecosse is a lovely man and free with the cigarettes and alcohol. His interior decorating is in shambles though," Francis let out a sigh but the smirk on his lips was anything but truly disheartened.

He however did roll his eyes at that, swatting the man for stooping low as well as stealing his cigarette. Taking it back with a huff, Francis fixed the man with a look. They both knew that was a lie, but if Francis wanted to be cured he would take it anyway he could get. Firmly, "I think we should take care of this bottle, oui?", the Frenchman just avoided the subject.

Good job.

"Not all of us can be fabulously bisexual like you Francis." the Prussian smirked and opened the bottle, taking a swig unceremoniously. "Course I don't think you ever bothered with my house in Berlin. Save the one time you changed the drapes in the dining room and then apparently all of the plates needed to be changed to match it." he gave his friend a grin and handed over the bottle.

"Scottie's a nice guy, just need to know what pushes his buttons and the fact that he's even grumpier than England. Course he's more fun than eyebrows but that's besides the point."

He took the bottle with a sniff, rolling his eyes at the denial. "Prusse, I promise to not lay a hand on your iridescent ass. Unlike those that bother to whisper about me I tend to enjoy sleeping with those that want to partake in this" He motioned from shoulder down in a flourish that quickly followed a swig and squint. It'd been awhile since he'd consumed any alcohol, unfortunately.

A snort. "I'm wondering where he is in all of this actually... Perhaps he was just too stubborn to be captured?" An eye roll. "Then again, that begs to question why your face is here." Francis chuckled and offered up the bottle. "Those drapes were miserable, by the way. They needed changed."

"I know frenchie, I'm just bugging you because you're entertaining when you're riled up." he chuckled and leaned back on the bed against the wall.

"My face? I have a wonderful face, noble as I've been told. Course my nose will never be the same thanks to Liz." he sighed and ran a hand over the bump there from how many times he'd broken his nose over the centuries. "Scotland will show up, give it time. I feel like we're part of a menagerie or something." looking over at France he took the bottle and took a long swing.

"I liked those drapes, they weren't that bad, just old."

"Prusse, your taste in drapes is dismal at best. They had to be put out of their misery. Hell, I had to put them out of their misery to end my misery. Every time I gazed upon their depressing facade, the faded fleurs, I felt a pang of regret run deeply through me."

Or it could have been indigestion. Shrugging, he followed suit, sitting better on the bed with a low sigh. Long fingers waved to urge that large bottle back to him, expression somewhat teasing.

"Noble? Is that what it is now?" Not that Prussia was ugly, no. He was a handsome man even. Winking, he wasn't incredibly quick to add "Your nose has more character now, personally."

"Hey I didn't choose them, they were a gift from some noble woman because it wasn't done for men to choose furnishings at the time and I just couldn't be bothered to change them." He passed back the alcohol, running his fingers over his nose again and knowing it was a distinguishing feature on his face.

"Yes noble, but that at the time might've just been because I washed more than everyone else. I really hated the eighteenth century for that reason." he shook his head and drummed his fingers on the top of his knee with a devious crooked smile crossing his face.

"Giving me compliments now Francis? Haven't heard those from you in a while."

"Oh yes, blame the nobility on those atrocious drapes. Prusse, you should be ashamed." A clipped laugh punctuated his accusation, ducking his head to look down at the bottle thoughtfully. France had gone through the same in all honesty, though.

He crinkled his nose and took a stubborn swig. It was his way of not wanting to discuss the 18th century in any way because no. Turning his head away from watching the man he let his head rest against the wall with a dull thwack, sniffing.

"Someone has to give your ego a nice stroke from time to time. I am a good friend, after all. I wouldn't want to see you wither."

Edited 2011-09-09 00:21 (UTC)

At France's reaction he pointedly ignored that entire century as an area of conversation. But couldn't help the lewd grin that crossed his face. "Oh, I love having things stroked, you are a good friend Francis I doubt anyone would deny that you are." he chuckled and held his hand out for the bottle.

"Come on man, pass it over if you aren't taking a swig."

Out of spite he took another swig, holding the bottle back. He could feel the back of his neck heating pleasantly as the alcohol warmed him - though his high tolerance kept him from breaking down into a fit of guffaws. Give it time, Gilbert--you'll have him smirking and sprawling out and being very unaware of personal space whether it be bodily or possessions. That is, he's either molesting you or the trunk at the end of the bed.

"Prusse - are you sure that is your answer? Am I really good." Stretching, he gave the damned albino a look. "I mean-I know I am a wonderful man and such!"

"You are when you're not harassing me about my drapes" the albino laughed and took the bottle from him and took a swig, then giving France a grin.

"I think my anwser is solid." he gave France a grin and flopped back on his bed, careful not to spill the drink in his hand. "Christ on a cracker, this place is fucking boring." he grumbled and kicked his legs over Francis' lap looking like the dishevelled rogue he was.

"Christ on a cracker? That's new." Francis rolled his eyes and got comfortable under Prusse's legs he'd so generously offered. He demanded the bottle with a nod toward it. "Be glad that it is boring and you still have your head on those scrawny shoulders."

Disheveled rogue his ass. A swallow and he grinned. "As if worrying over our homes isn't bad enough, ami."

"Have to do something to keep myself entertained."Prussia grinned and passed the bottle back to France. He had a nice buzz starting, settling back against the wall and looking at his friend.

"Yea, I'm not going to be a downer but you're all way more concerned than I'll ever be." he pointed out and was half tempted to light another cigarette but refrained and after a moment sat up to play with Francis' hair. Combing his fingers through it and making sure he didn't make it fluffy as he knew his friend hated.

Francis gave him a wry sort of snort, taking a deep breath that was followed by an even deeper swallow. Maybe he was feeling a buzz. Maybe his muscles were simply relaxing. Finally.

Not wanting to slip into morbidity - it was damned easy - he opted to joke. "Quoi? Prusse, certainly you care about remaining one with your head?" It probably sounded weak even to the buzzed man beside him, but it was better than nothing. "You truly are a man without cares."

Still, he's quick to abandon words with Prussia's fingers in his hair, closing his eyes. "Must be nice." He may be leaning to the side in favor of the albino but he's not consciously aware of it quite yet.

"Naw I have cares, still need to make sure West keeps himself level and not going to any extremes like he seems to try to do." Prussia shrugged and shifted more toward France to play with the soft waves of gold.

He stopped momentarily to have another drink before resuming petting his friend and letting himself relax for a while.

"It's... unsettling knowing you can do whatever you want and it won't impact anything."

Francis wasn't a fan of 'West's' extremes and their relationship was still strained to this day depending on the season. It had been alright though. Germany had been the perfect vision of efficiency to the point of repression. Not that he'd been anything else but repressed through his life.

Subtly, Francis leaned a little more until he was practically cuddled up against the Prussian's side, crooning at the continued petting. "You are a good older brother, Prusse. I am sure he will listen to you."

Taking a drink he sighed. Mm, alcohol. The harsh quality of it didn't even bother him now. Looking up through his lashes, he smiled; joking "Some would say that about me before we were kidnapped, mon ami. I do agree though--we are sitting ducks at the whims of our 'saviors'."

"Yea, he hasn't listened to me in well over a century, I'm just history now." he knew France would never forgive his younger brother, hell he was amazed that France even forgave him for the shit that went down between Napoleon and the world wars. But it was true that friendships did last longer than some other things that had transpired.

Lacing his fingers through Francis' hair he rested his face against his friend's hair.

"Fuck them, all of them. They can suck my dick for calling themselves 'saviors' they're nothing more than a bunch of psychos playing madhouse."

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