Elsewhere in the restaurant, Ludwig Beilschmidt was rubbing his temples, leaning his elbows on the table and groaning. Somehow, Feliciano had dragged both him and Kiku to this restaurant to celebrate the most romantic holiday of the year, and yet the bouncy nation was nowhere to be found. Japan sat uncomfortably across from him, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves. Germany wasn’t quite aware of the way Japan normally celebrated Valentine’s day but it certainly didn’t seem to be in this manner, if his pale cheeks and darting gaze were any indication. Germany had to sigh; as much as he enjoyed celebrating with his allies, there was a particular Vargas female he would prefer to be spending the night with. Maybe if he snuck out now, but he couldn’t leave Japan alone here when he looked like such a nervous wreck…
“Germany! Germany!” The blonde’s head shot up to see Italy near the entrance, waving his arm wildly with his usual smile. This time his sigh was accompanied by a small smile and he waved the Mediterranean nation over to their table not that Italy needed an invitation; he was already pulling out a chair and sitting himself down. The nation bounced in his seat, almost emitting little pink joyful flowers of happiness, but Germany put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“Italy, v’hy did-” He stopped abruptly when Italy raised his arm and pointed to a booth in the corner, almost completely hidden from their view.
“Germany, isn’t that’a your sorella with’a Francis?” Germany turned his head slowly barely catching sight of the suit-clad Frenchman leaning over his younger sister’s form. Before even thinking, he leapt up, his chair falling back messily. It would have clattered to the floor had Japan not grabbed it with surprising reflexes.
“Germany-san, maybe you should r’eave them be,” Japan started, replacing the chair and straightening his shirt. “It is a specia’r day for them." Germany calmed down with Japan’s words, remembering just what the relationship between France and Berlin was now. It didn’t mean he’d come to like the Frenchman though, not in the least, which was why he reacted as he did. Italy returned to bouncing, his ahoge following suit happily.
“Mister’a waiter!” He waved the server over, and the man bowed his head politely, whipping out a pad and a pen with a wide, obviously fake, smile.
“Yessir?” Italy held up two fingers.
“One’a bottle of’a your best’a wine and a birra for’a Germany, per favore!” The server nodded and quickly hurried into the kitchens. He passed another couple, seated right beside a window overlooking the brightly lit, empty streets.
“Roderich, you look distracte’t, are you alright?” Austria turned his gaze from the window and nodded once, his fingers ghosting across the table as if it was a piano beneath his fingertips. The music playing in the back of his mind was certainly much better than what was being played at the moment by the lounge pianist anyway.
“Ja, Elizabeta.” His other hand followed suit, tracing out the keys of a very complicated classical number.
“Hey, don’t you think that Berlin an’t France are just darling?” She clasped her hands under her chin as her gaze strayed to the corner booth. Guess it wasn’t quite as secluded as France once thought. Austria cast his eyes back and nodded.
“Zey are a nice couple, ja-” Hungary slammed her hands on the table and pointed directly behind Austria to the table where Japan, Italy and Germany were seated. She gaped and began squealing quietly.
“T-The Axis! On Valentine’s-” She suddenly ran out of words and simply squirmed in her seat, her eyes clenched shut in excitement. At the Axis table in fact, the wine had arrived along with the beer. Germany was already through one mug, but he was laughing slightly at a joke Italy was telling, mostly with wild hand gestures. Japan however, was finding the taste of wine to be rather appealing and was already half-way done the bottle, looking really off-balance. Austria only sighed, returning his gaze to the window; his piano probably missed him.
