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Hetalia: War, Peace, or Randomness?

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"Alright then!" China said cheerfully, "Tell me when you're finished!"

He then went past them, not showing any sign of realizing that North Korea had first tried to say 'no'. He gave a small wave and a, "Bye," before disappearing down the hall. Jiangsu angrily stormed after him in her easily-provoked-but-more-outgoing mood with the papers.

"CHINA! Carry your papers by yourself! Get back here and DO YOUR JOB!" she shouted irately after her country as she, too, disappeared down the hall.

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"All right. Goodbye, brother!" North Korea called after China, watching him walk away while Slovakia appeared offering him the honour of picking the place to eat at. Pyongyang placed his hands on the much shorter Korean's shoulders, smiling at Slovakia from over his military cap.

"If you wouldn't mind too much, Slovakia-nim, might I attend as well? I don't mean to be a bother, and you needn't buy anything for me, but I'm afraid my brother here is a little shut-in! He doesn't know too much about international matters, or at least not as much as I do, and I wouldn't want him embarrassing himself or you in public."

With a rosy tinge to his cheeks, the young country made a face as if he were about to argue before sighing and crossing his arms with a slight pout, turning away.

"... I guess he's right. Uh, but if you'd like it more if it were just me, I can send him away! Or try to. I'm sorry, but I don't really think I know any restaurants or anything around here, so I'd appreciate it a lot if you could pick where to go instead, please." Slowly, his bright crimson gaze slid down towards his boots, a finger coming up to awkwardly twirl a stray strand of hair that had come loose from his braid. "I... I'm not really social. I'm sorry in advance if I do anything rude without meaning to. I prefer staying locked in my house most of the time to doing stuff like eating with other people, so this is the first time I've done something like this in a long time."

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"Uhhhh...I don't," said Slovakia, trying to be friendly. Really, he was just scared of saying no. He didn't want more people that he didn't know around him, but he was just scared to get bombed. He had heard terrible rumors about North Korea, and he was scared of one of them being true. He struggled to look North Korea in the eyes as he spoke, "Oh, u-um, I have the same problem. I don't like social things...," He was quiet for a bit before speaking again, "So, where are we eating?"

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"Oh, um... Anywhere you want, I guess! Again, I'd really appreciate it if you could pick where we eat. I don't really know all that much about what's around here." Even if it did require socialization, at least in the end he was entitled to an uninterrupted meal. He gave the strand of hair wound around his finger a slight tug, handing the last of his papers over to Pyongyang before stepping out the door while the model city put on a pitying face. If seemed as if he was the only one to see how blatantly uncomfortable the two of them were. Slovakia didn't seem to care much for any new company, and he knew from experience how defiant North Korea could get whenever he was forced to go somewhere with someone new. Out of all the things in the world they could have in common, why xenophobia?

"After you, sir." He stated simply, clipping his suitcase shut and holding the door open politely for Slovakia to exit.

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"So... where are we going, bro?" Stockholm asked casually as he walked next to Sweden. His brother shrugged a little before looking around the room, lest he forget anything before leaving. "We could simply watch... most other countries get up to some... interesting thing." He replied. Stockholm was mildly surprised Sweden had even spoken, considering how many people were around. Although, now that he really looked around, nobody was paying either of them much attention. "Alright. So who... oh." He spotted North Korea and Slovakia... interacting? It was tough to say what exactly the two were doing. But one was a volatile state headed by a dead person and the other was incredibly awkward in social situations. "Perhaps it'll be interesting to watch." The capitol mused, sharing his brother's smile.

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"Oh, you don't have to hold the door for me," said Slovakia, trying to get the door for himself. He was worried simply because he hurt North Korea. Now, he wasn't sure what to do. If he didn't accept the kind gesture, North Korea would get upset, but if he didn't hold the door, he felt rude. As he attempted to get the door, he glanced at the Korean, "Alo, you can decide where we go. It's my, um, treat, so you can decide. If I decided, we would have traditional food, but if you want that, we can go to a place that makes that! Of course, if you want to eat something else, then we can!"

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"I've never had traditional food from your country before, so I'd like that, if you please."

The door was released once it became evident that Slovakia would rather go through on his own accord. Honestly, the thought of Slovakian food was rather exciting - what was it like? Would it be like Russian food, with a massive banquet on an over-sized table? Or was it judgmental of him to categorize all east-European meals as the same? Truth be told, the thought of a big foreign meal appealed to him a lot. Far too often was he left suffering fainting spells or mild dementia from hunger at home, though he could at least say that the experiences had given him plenty of survival techniques in case a war ever broke out. The knowledge that rose petals and dandelion roots were edible would come to be useful someday, he was sure.

Adjusting his tie, Pyongyang slipped his lithe wrist through the handle of his suitcase and pulled a ballpoint pen from the breast pocket of his suit, jotting down into his clipboard their current location and plans in case he was to be asked of them later.

"Simply lead the way, Mr. Slovakia, and we will follow." The capital clicked his pen shut and clipped it to his pocket so that it was at the ready in case he needed to quickly write down anything else. "This is a learning experience for us. We don't usually do things like this, so please, take us anywhere you like and order anything you want and we'll be happy to just observe your choices and listen to whatever you tell us."

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((do you just want to timeskip so they're at the restaurant?))

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Slovakia was more relaxed as he walked into the restaurant. He heard people speaking Slovak around him and smelled Slovak food. There were even flags hanging up in some places. It wasn't completely traditional like it was in his house. He made all of his own food, and obviously these people didn't. Still, if they cooked it properly, it wouldn't matter where the food was from. He asked for a table and him and North Korea were taken to one near the entrance to the restaurant. "Oh, ah, so...," he quickly read over the menu, "If you need help figuring out what something is, I can help. The food is from my home, so just tell me what you need help with. I've probably had everything anyway. O-of course, if you don't think you need help, then I won't help you!"

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((Icepelt, where do you get the flag from? It seems cool to use to show who you're playing as. o>o))

North Korea could only imagine that this must be what Slovakia was like. The sight of so many people bustling about and chattering over hot, steamy plates of food, turning and twisting around to talk to each other, it had to be the way things were where he was from. Despite all their mental conditioning both Asians found themselves regarding everything with a curious fixation, their eyes gliding over gilded European ornaments meant for decoration on the walls and the little machine-made stitching patterns on the tablecloths. The language itself sounded very foreign, and it got them both to feel a little excited. How queer this all was!

"Um, it's okay, Slovakia-sshi- or Mr. Slovakia, if you'd prefer that!" North Korea added quickly, deciding that perhaps tacking on a western honourific instead of one of his own would show respect. "I can't read any of this, but it makes things a little more exciting, doesn't it? I'll take... Well, this second thing looks awfully nice. Is it some kind of broth? It isn't too expensive, is it? I don't want you to buy it if it costs a lot. Just get me the cheapest thing on the menu, if it's too much. It all looks good, anyway."

"I'll pay for my own meal." Pyongyang added, pointing out what he wanted on the other side of the menu. "You'd only invited my brother i the first place, so I'll just pay for whatever it is I end up getting. But tell me, what is this called, here? Isn't there any seafood on the menu? I'd like some, any sort of eel or shellfish?"

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((wikipedia. i just resize it in paint.))

 

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"Oh, uh, that's Fazuľová," said Slovakia, looking at his own menu, "It's a soup made of beans, and price doesn't matter. It's all I can do to repay you for running into you. It was terribly rude of me. So, if you want Fazuľová, then you can have it," He glanced over at Pyongyang. He hadn't really wanted the capitol to come along, because that would sap his money. Of course, he valued his life more than his money, "Oh, you don't have to pay. I...I will. That is Halušky, by the way. It's a variety of noddles and dumplings that are used a lot in my home. We don't have seafood though..."

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((Oh, thank you! For some reason, saving the flag on paint changed its colours on my computer, so I just looked around online for a little one.))

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"You don't need to apologize for that anymore, sir, it was only an accident." Offhandedly, North Korea gingerly brushed his fingers against the small bruise left on his forehead, thankful that it hadn't made any sort of bump on his head. Though he'd naturally want to snap and yell at someone for so much as touching him, the people back at his place urging him to make more friends and behave better around other countries made him hold his tongue. "Fazul'ová? It's a pretty name. If you're sure, then I'd like to have that, please."

"Halušky? As disappointing as it is that you don't have any seafood, I like noodles a lot, so I'm fine with this dish." Completely ignoring Slovakia's comment on paying for him, Pyongyang drew out his wallet and opened it up, frowning at all the foreign currencies it held. There were rubles, yuan, yen, won, South Korean won, a few Euros and a handful of American dollars. "What kind of currency does this place take? I want to pay correctly. I won't have you spending a single coin on me, I have plenty of money and I was uninvited. It would be grotesquely rude of me."

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"Oh, uh...," Slovakia was going to apologize again, but he stopped himself. North Korea said not to apologize, so he simply dipped his head slightly. He didn't want to accidentally tick off one of them by being rude. Of course, he was naturally polite, so he would just have to be extra careful around them. He then looked at Pyongyang, "Oh, you don't have to pay. This is my treat, but...but if you want to pay, then I won't stop you. It would be rude of me to force you into something. We take Euros."

 

((sorry for all the short posts recently, i just haven't been into it lately :/))

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With a nod, North Korea tugged on Pyongayng's sleeve and leaned over to whisper in his brother's ear, pointing at the menu and murmuring in soft Korean. Pyongyang responded by taking all the euros out of his wallet and piling them onto the table, flashing a looks at Slovakia as he reached in for more.

"This is enough?" he asked, placing more bills and coins on top of the tablecloth. Leaning away from his brother, North Korea pressed his hands together and, deciding to be polite, turned to Slovakia with a smile, nodding and blushing a little. In the meantime, Pyongyang flagged down a waitress and began attempting to order food, with haphazard results.

"Oh, thank you so much for inviting me to this meal with you," he gushed, putting in the zeal and effort he usually reserved to comment on propaganda at home or self-criticism classes. "It's just so wonderful, and such an honour to be asked to actually go out with you over something nonpolitical. It's heartwarming."

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"Uh, well, it'll all depends on what you order to drink and eat," said Slovakia, looking over at Pyongayng. Once the waiter walked over, he ordered a beer and Bryndzové halušky, his favorite food. It was his national dish after all, so he would never get tired of it. It was dumplings with goat cheese. It was completely vegetarian too. He did eat meat, but just not a lot. Being vegetarian was always the reason he told people to eat it. His gaze drifted to North Korea, his face paling slightly at his words. He wasn't really used to praise from strangers, "Oh, it was r-really no problem. I did it to make up for hurting you. I didn't want to be rude..."

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"Oh, nonsense! I wasn't hurt at all. I'm much stronger than I look," North Korea insisted, his gaze settling on the empty space in front of him where a future plate would rest. True, he was rather on the short side, and very very skinny, but he was prideful of his power. That didn't really change how sensitive he really was about his looks - slowly, to avoid detection, he slouched a little in his seat so that his feet would touch the floor and not dangle as they had been when he'd been previously swinging his legs waiting. "You weren't rude at all. A bruise is really nothing to put all this stress on about, I'm sorry I've caused you so much trouble. You should ignore what everybody says about me, I really don't, like, go out of my way to try dragging you down or whatever they say behind my back."

Pyongyang eventually managed to convert what he wanted to the waitress, and with a pride, almost smug look, he took a handkerchief out of his breast pocket and folded it diagonally, placing it on his lap to avoid any possible stains from whatever it was they would be eating.

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"Oh. I'm sorry," said Slovakia, looking up from his lap, "I didn't mean to insult you. Did I? You don't have to apologize. I'm just making up for doing it is all...," He felt bad then, trailing off. He had believed every word he had heard about the Asian nation. Bratislava had told him terrible things about the county and about North Korea himself. He didn't really know how she knew so much, but he still listened, even if it sounded biased. After a long silence, he managed to find his voice again, "You know, I...never believed those things."

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"Really?" Oblivious to whatever was going on in Slovakia's head, North Korea lit up, a bit of a smile on his face. Of course, he always got to see what all the foreign news stations said about him whenever he had the chance to outside of his homeland, and it always stung quite badly. They exaggerated everything beyond belief and never took the time to try seeing things through his eyes, and in the west especially, he seemed to just be the butt end of a bad joke, a replacement for any old Soviet slurs.

Not that he never did anything reprehensible. Oh, not nearly so. Though he would be slow to speak of any of it.

"Do you honestly mean that? That makes me so happy! Everyone keeps saying I'm evil for my own beliefs and for the things I do, but then in meetings they'll trip me or talk about me even if I can hear them, or some other hypocritical thing. It's so nice to hear that someone's above all of America's lies." Perhaps Pyongyang was correct in making him come. More than a little pleased at his new, naive knowledge of Slovakia, the young country clasped his hands and looked around to watch the other tables have their food arrive, trying to see what it looked like.

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"Oh, I'm glad to hear that," said Slovakia, offering North Korea a pleasant smile. Of course, he was completely lying through his teeth. He didn't trust North Korea one bit. Bratislava knew what she was talking about, he was sure, and he had seen plenty of stories on the news. What kind of nut job thought that they found a unicorn dwelling? North Korea, obviously. The only reason Slovakia didn't speak out against him is because he knew it was unwise, and it would just make him look bad. Multiple countries spoke badly about North Korea, but then seemed two-faced when they helped him. Slovakia wanted to stay as neutral as possible and just try to interact with the Asian as little as possible. The only reason he had even invited him in the first place was to not get his head bitten off. He was silent for a bit before their drinks arrived and the beer was placed in front of him. The waitress opened it for him and he took a long swing, sighing once he set it down on the table.

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Still completely oblivious to any of Slovakia's true intentions, North Korea drew his attention to the waitress who had arrived and dropped off three glasses of liquid at their table, watching as Slovakia picked one up and drank from it. He followed Pyongyang's hand as he, too, reached for a drink and sipped at it, offering their host a smile.

"This is an awfully nice drink," he complimented, swirling the yellow-tinged liquid around in his cup. "It tastes like hennessy cognac, a bit."

Slowly, in an effort to fit in more than to actually drink, North Korea reached for his own glass and brought it closer, frowning and he looked into its contents. Pyongyang never really allowed him to drink - he could feel the city's eyes on him even as he only held the glass - out of fear that he would say something wrong under the influence, but he couldn't very well just snap at him not to in front of Slovakia, could he? With a shifty look towards his brother, he brought the glass to his lips and drank deeply, getting a thinly veiled glare from the taller Asian at the table. "So, Mr. Slovakia," Pyongyang boomed, turning his attention to the country across from him, "Could you tell us more about where you're from? I'm afraid we don't know too much about you is all, and I'd like to get to know you a bit better."

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Slovakia was a little more relaxed now that he had some alcohol in his system. Of course, he was extremely far from even getting tipsy, but it was still more relaxing nonetheless. Perhaps it was because he was so used to drinking that it no longer had affect on him. Even then, he was still a bit nervous to be around an unfamiliar nation. "Well," he tipped his head slightly, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to share, "A lot of people in my home have farms, so they make their own food. There's cows, pigs, chickens, and vegetables. In my home, we do the same. Even our cheese is made form goat's milk. Sometimes, we even sell it to make a little extra money."

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Pyongyang couldn't help but grimace at Slovakia's words, though he did manage to at least attempt to hide it with a smile. While he was pleased with the thought of putting emphasis on farmers, to focus on raising money through it for personal reasons greatly put him off. "I like that kind of mindset a lot!" He exclaimed, setting his drink down. North Korea, in the meanwhile, had already managed to down his entire glass, and immediately picked up his brother's and began to drink from it, too. "We, too, focus much on the farmer. However, where we're from ,the focus is split between farmers, factory workers, and intellectuals. It makes sense, doesn't it? I mean, we're only working in the revolutionary spirit of our Eternal President after all, so it naturally would be the most logical ideology by far. Juche, I always say, is the most brilliant-"

"Oh, please come off it." A slightly tipsy North Korea muttered, waving a hand in his brother's face to silence the city. "He doesn't want you to preach at him. Leave him be. Hey, Slovakia-ssi, this is actually a really nice drink. What's it called?"

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Slovakia was completely familiar with how North Korea's government worked. He used to have something that was similar, at least economy-wise. He hated the way Pyongyang was speaking to him, loudly and as if he was some sort of idiot. Slovakia was really trying hard to be polite, but he found himself focusing on his drink. He would probably need another more in order to get over the capitol's stupid preaching. Didn't he know it was rude to talk about politics, religion, or anything or the sort at a meal? They were in a public place, so he wasn't about to correct him. He was sure the people sitting around them giving Pyongyang dirty looks would get the point across. Slovakia's gaze slowly drifted to North Korea, who seemed tipsy for some reason. The Slovak let out a hardly audible sigh. It was so uncool to get drunk in public. His gaze then went to the wooden glass he was drinking out of. "That's Žinčica," he said, "It's a non-alcoholic drink made out of goat's milk."

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Pyongyang completely ignored the irritated glares from the other customers at the restaurant, instead perking up a bit once he realized that the drink Slovakia had ordered them was made of milk. Immediately, he snatched it away from North Korea, who was a bit red-faced and coughing. Regardless, he tugged on his capital's sleeve and quietly asked for the glass back, stating simply that he was still thirsty. With a smile still on his face, Pyongyang turned towards the European across from him with an airy wave, placing the cup as far from his country as it could be while still on the table. "Thank you. I can't say I've had goat's milk before, but I'm sorry to tell you that my brother here is allergic to milk in general. But don't worry, he should be fine."

Actually, in someone as physically weak as North Korea, a little bit of anaphylaxis would probably occur with him having had a cup and a half of the milk drink, though Pyongyang was less concerned with his brother's airways closing up and more with focusing on Slovakia. "It sure does have a very interesting taste, though. How do you make it? Do you sell this, too?"

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