I make a weird face when I see you too, so it's to be expected!
The doors are locked, so even if their heads were messed up and they wanted to come in they couldn't.
And cut it out with threats like that, because I'll say them better every time! 'I'll dig my boot into your head until you cry for mercy' and things like that come easily to me, but I won't teach you no matter how hard you beg!
My eyes will hurt if I meet with you, so just stay locked in that cabin.
[Gilbert glared down at his tablet, his eyes aching as it's light dimmed and robbed the small hut he'd holed up in of it's only light source.
When he'd arrived here, the nation's biggest complaint had been the lack of cigarettes. Since he was an expert at cool things like going without food, freezing in iced over tundras and wandering around by himself, Prussia hadn't found himself incredibly distressed by the situation. How he'd arrived was a mystery, and while Gilbert initially brushed it off as the morning after a drunken mistake, he'd quickly forgotten the question all together.
Even though starving to death was awesome when he did it, Prussia had grown nothing but weary of the cycle. So he threw himself into the survival game with just as much reckless self-assured vigor as he'd ignored it initially. Doing so had awarded him a feeble supply of food and shelter.
But still no cigarettes. Or beer! What kind of place was this!?
The nation had taken to shouting his grievances at the sky, rather than making them known on the network. Sometimes he'd even mutter them to himself as he walked, giving the snow a squinted glare as if it was somehow personally responsible for this mess.
Finding the small hut of shelter had Prussia's chapped lips spreading into a smirk, but an obnoxiously loud (as if the sound was trying to match his voice) growl from his stomach stifled the nation's celebration.
He headed inside, foodless and too cold to shiver. Seeing Russia's post on the network was the final straw. Typically he avoided that guy, but he wanted to yell at someone, damn it - and the sky deserved abuse far less than Ivan.
There was no direction to his conversation, of course, or if there had been then Gilbert had either since forgotten or didn't care to make it evident. Likely both. As the Prussian ran a numb finger over his screen he simply basked in the feeling of talking down to someone.]
2
The doors are locked, so even if their heads were messed up and they wanted to come in they couldn't.
And cut it out with threats like that, because I'll say them better every time! 'I'll dig my boot into your head until you cry for mercy' and things like that come easily to me, but I won't teach you no matter how hard you beg!
My eyes will hurt if I meet with you, so just stay locked in that cabin.
[Gilbert glared down at his tablet, his eyes aching as it's light dimmed and robbed the small hut he'd holed up in of it's only light source.
When he'd arrived here, the nation's biggest complaint had been the lack of cigarettes. Since he was an expert at cool things like going without food, freezing in iced over tundras and wandering around by himself, Prussia hadn't found himself incredibly distressed by the situation. How he'd arrived was a mystery, and while Gilbert initially brushed it off as the morning after a drunken mistake, he'd quickly forgotten the question all together.
Even though starving to death was awesome when he did it, Prussia had grown nothing but weary of the cycle. So he threw himself into the survival game with just as much reckless self-assured vigor as he'd ignored it initially. Doing so had awarded him a feeble supply of food and shelter.
But still no cigarettes. Or beer! What kind of place was this!?
The nation had taken to shouting his grievances at the sky, rather than making them known on the network. Sometimes he'd even mutter them to himself as he walked, giving the snow a squinted glare as if it was somehow personally responsible for this mess.
Finding the small hut of shelter had Prussia's chapped lips spreading into a smirk, but an obnoxiously loud (as if the sound was trying to match his voice) growl from his stomach stifled the nation's celebration.
He headed inside, foodless and too cold to shiver. Seeing Russia's post on the network was the final straw. Typically he avoided that guy, but he wanted to yell at someone, damn it - and the sky deserved abuse far less than Ivan.
There was no direction to his conversation, of course, or if there had been then Gilbert had either since forgotten or didn't care to make it evident. Likely both. As the Prussian ran a numb finger over his screen he simply basked in the feeling of talking down to someone.]