Chapter 23: Can We Talk?

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The day of the meeting finally came. Molossia, even in the air-conditioned room, was sweating in his suit. He didn't wear his sunglasses like he usually did. Germany scolded him something awful, saying he refused to have him attend a meeting in his home looking the way he did, and he was forced to change out of his usual attire. He wasn't very comfortable, but that wasn't the point.

He was going to demand Romano to let him talk to Seborga.

Unfortunately, the Italians hadn't arrived yet. This only made the brunette more nervous. His confidence slowly dwindled away with every passing second that the brothers didn't come through the doors. He sat between Canada and America, his hands bawled into fists on his lap, as he waited.

"Guys, I don't think they're coming," he whispered to them.

"Calm down," Canada told him. "They'll be here. They're always late."

"Yeah, dude," America agreed. The blond gave him a reassuring smile. "Mattie's right. They'll be here soon. Don't worry."

Molossia nodded in response, his eyes reverting back to the clock on the wall above Germany across the room. He placed his hands on the table and started tapping his fingers against the wood.

An hour passed, and still no sign of the Italians. It seemed even Germany was waiting for them as he let out a rather disappointed sigh.

Standing up he said, "Alright. Let us begin. China, your opening statement, please."

The meeting went on, but Molossia paid no attention to it. He knew Sealand would be upset that he'd have nothing to report the next time they had their meeting, but this was more important. His eyes were glued to the door. He wouldn't dare look away for anything. That was until...

"Molossia!" Germany called the brunette, his brows knit together. The brunette jumped in alarm. "This is the fifth time I've called your name. Are you as ditzy as Jones over there?"

"Hey! I'm right here you know..."

Molossia shook his head. "No, sir. I just... I'm waiting on someone and-"

"We're all waiting on those Italians, mon cher," France butted in. "Worry not. They should be arriving right-"

Suddenly, the doors flew open with a "SLAM!". Standing there in their glory were the Italy brothers in their glory. Romano was dressed in a snazzy suit—for once—and stood next to Veneziano, who was dressed just as nicely. Standing behind them was Seborga. The teen wasn't dressed like his brothers, but looked just as lovely to the brunette. He always did.

"There you wankers are," England huffed. "It's about time."

"Ve... Mi dispiace. Traffic was crazy!" Veneziano laughed.

"More like you guys just overslept," China muttered beneath his breath.

"Can we move on with the meeting?" Russia asked, his aura turning rather sinister.

"Always impatient, aren't ya ba- I-I mean, commie," America sputtered, laughing at his near mistake. Molossia rolled his eyes at the American.

"Vaffanculo. We're here, aren't we? Let's get this shit over with..."

The trio took their seats, Molossia's eyes following Seborga's every move. He stared at the other micronation as he took his seat, and Seborga stared back. Some time went into the meeting before both boys excused themselves from their parent nations.

Molossia watched as Seborga was hugged by Veneziano, the older mumbling something in his ear before the Italian nodded over to the exit. Molossia nodded back and got up.

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