“A-ah I’ve been fine. But... um- I think Ivan has been stalking me since the potlatch. He keeps showing up at my house a-and he even knows I’m staying her for Christmas. He sent the flowers to me!” He pointed helplessly at the sunflowers.
“Are you sure it was Russia?” France asked, now concerned.
“H-he didn’t sign his name, but he wrote a poem,” Canada handed the card over to France.
In the kitchen, Alfred had already ordered the pizza and dumped out all the booze, but he was stalling. He really did not want to go back into the living room despite the killer football game that was going on. They still had to decorate the tree and now Alfred would need to buy presents for two more people. Why had Santa Claus granted his letter this year? That old man should know by now that he just asked for Arthur to come because he did it every year since he was a kid. It was just a tradition.
Finally, he dragged himself back into the living room. The closest chair was the one next to England’s. So he sat there, but only because it was closest.
“Alfred, I forgot to mention, I found some old toys of yours and I put them out with the nutcrackers.”
Alfred stiffened. “What old toys?”
“You know, those toy soldiers you always used to play with when you were little.”
“Oh, those old things, you can just throw them out, not like I use them.”
“Huh? But you put them out with the nutcrackers every year.” All Alfred wanted to do was to yell at his brother to just shut up. Now he was going to end up in an argument with Arthur over the revolution, again.
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