The red haired man frowned as he sat in the chair, his bright green eyes glaring daggers at the short, stubby, middle aged man before him with the same expression that many had come to associate with death. The middle aged man fidgeted in his seat, clearing his throat as he hugged his messenger bag to his chest.
"S-So, in order to i-improve your public relations h-her royal Majesty has d-decided th-that you shall answer q-questions from fellow nations and humans alike," the man finally managed to stutter out. A fine red eyebrow was raised, and the piercing green gaze never left the other man.
The personification of Scotland pulled out a pack of fags, sliding one out of the box, as his green eyes reduced the human before him to a stuttering mess. He placed the fag between his lips, and lighted it, a smirk curling the corners of his lips, as he leaned forward, blowing out a thin stream of smoke.
"That sae? An' whit if Ah decide nae tae dae it?" the man whimpered, holding his bag up as...