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Post by South Italy on Jan 22, 2011 15:42:09 GMT -6
Romano wandered through the streets of Vatican City in an irritable mood, glaring at everything and muttering to himself, clearly on the verge of throwing one of his famous fits if anything triggered it, and his destination just might if he knew anything. He had to talk to the bossy brat known as Agosto, Vatican City himself. He HATED talking to him, he didn't care what it was about, he eventually ended up screaming profanities as the Swiss Guard dragged him out of the city, and that was NOT fun.
Still, he had to try and endure for the sake of not wanting getting shot at on sight the next time he came by... He cut it close last time, and now the Guard kept an eye on him when he passed them in their FLAMBOYANT outfits... Romano swore a colorblind man designed those uniform... things. Oh well, he was getting close to the Vatican now, so it was time to try and be on good behavior...
Even so, he had to wonder why he and Feliciano were bossed around by a ten-year-old KID who sometimes was more irresponsible and fluffheaded than Feliciano. Romano had heard of the days when Vatican had skipped out on church work to go wander the city and gorge himself on ice cream... Sheesh. He WAS worse than Feliciano. But nevertheless, he kept his thoughts to himself and reined in his annoyance as he approached the room where he was supposed to meet with Vatican... He never remembered what the place was called, only where it was.
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Post by Vatican City on Feb 17, 2011 12:22:56 GMT -6
As he sat in his office doing paperwork, he grew more and more annoyed by the minute. He couldn't go out and frolic and be in colorful clothes and eat ice cream and take his day off because he had to meet the creepy Southern Italian brother today.
He at least liked Feliciano better. He was in general more fun to be around with, and more happy. His overall personality suited the happy-go-lucky Catholic country more, as he felt like he could connect with him more.
The creepy Southern Italian brother, on the other hand... he didn't understand why he was so... he didn't even know how to describe it. It was like he was angry at the world all the time. And even though he tries to scare off people by appearing angry and unapproachable all the time, he just lacked that... intimidation. He wasn't the least intimidated by him, even if he does go on one of his swearing fits. There was something... amusing about it, in fact.
Figuring he didn't want to wait any longer, he got up from where he was sitting and walked to the door, intending to just screw the meeting and go out. What did they have to talk about, anyway? What could the Southern Italian possibly want with him? He doubt it was related to anything religious, maybe he just wanted to swear him out. But either way, he still had to meet him, as it is one of his obligations.
But he was late, as all Italians are, so he just decided to cancel the meeting, as flighty Italians do. Hey, he was allowed to do that, right? Moving to the door, he threw it open and prepared to skip out.
When he was faced with the irked Italian.
Raising his head to look up at him, he composed himself and cleared his throat, before leaving the door open and going back to his desk. "...What did you want to talk about?" |
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Post by South Italy on Feb 24, 2011 15:42:59 GMT -6
The older Italian crossed his arms when the young blond opened the door, walking in and kicking the door shut behind him, leaning against it with his usual scowl,
“What the fuck does it matter what we talk about? You'll end up kicking me out anyway.” He said irritably. He really, REALLY hated this place... There was too much focus on stuff he didn't give a damn about, too many stuffy people who tried to scold him for being him, and too many fucking colorblind guards who would be ready to drag him away.
Was it REALLY necessary to have all of them? Yeah, it was an insanely important place for the Catholics, but for fuck's sake, give the guys something that actually had some TASTE to it. They were almost painful to look at, the colors clashed something awful, and those PANTS. Dear god, they looked stupid nowadays. Yeah, back when they were designed, they were okay, but geez, keep with the times, people.
Romano inwardly cringed at the thought of them, but tried not to let his distaste be too obvious, after all, he was standing in front of the source of his irritation, right now. He had to try and be polite... Sort of... He never really was polite, except to women, and this brat was definitely not a woman, even when he wore those insanely short shorts, which would probably get the kid pounced anywhere else in the world. The older Italian sighed and muttered rather colorful language to himself, a habit that had gotten him in tons of trouble the last time he was here, having started cussing in front of a few priests while passing the main part of the church. That wasn't pretty.
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Post by Vatican City on Mar 6, 2011 11:40:59 GMT -6
He cringed a bit as the door banged loudly when it was kicked shut. He definitely did not like talking to this Italian one bit. Feliciano was a better choice in every single way.
But it wasn't his choice- Romano was the one who wanted to organize this meeting and talk about something. And then here he was, contradicting himself, saying he didn't want to talk to him about anything anyway, and in, God forbid, colorful language too. What exactly did he want? Piss him off? Catch him off-guard? Did he really think he could do that?
He had to remain calm now. While he really wanted to berate and kick out and give the other Italian another... ah... guard treatment, he knew that he had to win this time. Irk the Italian by pretending not to be fazed. That was going to grate on his nerves so much. Oh yes.
Going back to sit down behind his desk, he slowly turned to look at Romano fully, his eyes meeting the other's. This was really serious business right here, no jokes, no insults, no nothing. Whenever Vatican City sits behind his table and stares straight at someone, it is a gesture of complete and utter authority. No room for defiance. It was hard to believe he was a kid- with his piercing, serious, cold, stoic, deep azure eyes that seemed to look right into the deepest depths of one's soul, and his firm mouth set in a business-like frown, he was the epitome of authoritative faces. He ceased to be childish when he wanted to be, he was serious when it was needed.
"I would suggest that you not use that tone with me, Lovino." He declared in a deep voice that didn't seem to belong to him, but it did. "I did not call for any such meeting. If I may remind you, you are the one who wanted to talk to me. Therefore, speak. And do not utter anything indecent, or it will be more than the guards dragging you out this time."
When he got serious, it was serious. Beware. |
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Post by South Italy on May 24, 2011 23:52:35 GMT -6
“Look, I didn't f-” Romano stopped himself before he started cussing like a sailor, gritting his teeth with the rarely used self-control, taking a deep breath and trying again, “I'm not the one that wanted this meeting, okay? It was my stupid boss that told me to do it, and he didn't tell me a-” once again with the restraint, “A thing about what I was supposed to talk about. All I know is that I had to arrange a meeting with you about G- I don't know what, so here I am.”
The brunette crossed his arms with a huff, looking away and mentally grumbling and fussing about his predicament, glaring at the wall and seething as he drummed his fingers impatiently, “For all I know, I was sent to talk about how b- Spain has been, or about the tomato crops, or pasta exports or stupid sh- stuff like that. No one ever tells me anything, the b- jerks.”
The Italian was growing more irritated the more he had to correct himself, and was now gripping his arm, his stance rigid and his voice harsher as he attempted to keep calm, growling quietly and starting to pace stiffly, his amount of curse words to catch increasing in his agitation, “This is such a f- pain, I don't want to f- be here, it's so f- stupid... G- d- CHIGIIII!” He had a momentary outburst, flailing a bit and stomping his foot like a child throwing a short tantrum, glaring at the blond child, “I really hate you for this!!” He shouted, clenching his fists, on the verge of another fit, “I swear to G- I'm going to f- murder my f- boss for this...” He really was trying his hardest not to get kicked out, which wasn't easy when he was already in a temper to start with, and was being told not to curse or lose his temper any more. The combination was doomed to end badly from the start, and it was already fairly apparent that his volatile temper would get him in trouble yet again. “Cazzo...”
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Post by Vatican City on Aug 12, 2011 21:45:12 GMT -6
The more Romano got angrier, the more amused he became. Oh yes, this was very fun indeed. He admired how much self-control he had at this point too, because he knew that he was just itching to utter something vile and ungodly. Hard to believe he was Catholic, really, with that dirty mouth of his.
Nevertheless, it was still very much amusing. Gazing at him with those same authoritative eyes, though a slight, condescending smirk was present on his face, he didn't even mind the Italian's sudden outburst nor the very quiet curse word that came from his mouth (his self-control was bound to disappear at any minute anyway, after all that correcting himself, which highly amused the child) as he gestured him calmly to the chair right in front of his desk. It really was fun messing around with the older Italian, even more so amusing with the fact that he himself is younger, and has to be respected, no matter how much the other didn't want to.
"Sit, Lovino." Though the tone was far from kind and fatherly, it did hold a commanding tone to it. How he enjoyed his authority indeed. "I commanded your boss to send you here without telling you the reason. Now…" He leaned over his desk, his chin propped oh-so-comfortably on his hand, that same, playful (yet authoritative) smirk still present on his face. "I have had you sent here because I wanted to talk to you about your preposterous swearing habits. I do not want someone like you bringing shame to the Catholic faith. Because you are the personification of the southern part of your country, I do not want you, of all people, setting a bad example not only for your citizens, but also for other Catholics who do not know better. Therefore, I had you summoned to… correct this habit of yours. And well, everything undesirable about you, so to say. Now... I want you to start by reminding me, what is the second commandment of God?"
Oh yes. This was going to be much fun indeed. If Romano didn't know what he came to talk about... then there's nothing wrong with making something up, is there? Besides, his attitude does need correcting. Much correcting. |
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Post by South Italy on Aug 15, 2011 18:08:58 GMT -6
Romano opened his mouth to start yelling at the Catholic boy, but grit his teeth and seethed for a moment, growling under his breath, mentally accusing the boy of lying about the reason for his presence, crossing his arms and glaring at the blond as he tried to rein in his fury,
“The second Commandment is 'Thou shalt not use the name of the Lord in vain.'” The Italian growled after a long pause, going to flop down in the chair, shifting to sit sideways so he could drape his legs over the armrest, watching the smaller boy with a scowl, “Your point?” He really was irritated all the time, these days, to him it seemed the whole world was getting stupider and pissing him off even more. Being here with the little brat was obviously not helping his mood in the least. He was craving tomatoes like no tomorrow, and probably wouldn't calm down to a reasonable level until he was back home, had unleashed his violently destructive fury on some unsuspecting person or items in his house, and settled down with an armful of tomatoes to devour. Maybe call the Spaniard and rant to him.
Speaking of whom, he hadn't been to visit the brunette in a while. Maybe he'd do that instead of staying home. Or possibly go out for a drive. His car was almost notorious on the road, and those who saw his car coming would get out of his way before they would be nearly hit. It made the violent Italian smug to know that he could cause wrecks without ever damaging any car with his baby. That took 'psychotic talent', as he'd say.
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