carnations-and-churros:

loviv:

Finding himself tongue tied for one of the few times in his life, Romano continues to stare up at the young woman. He’s not quite sure how to take this, seeing as he was waiting for some big, burly, stupid thug of a man. And definitely not a beautiful young woman. Nonetheless, he’s still pretty much scared for his life. This is the goddamned Spanish Empire in front of him, not any old pretty lady he could meet out on the streets. She’s the one that conquering the world, the one that can bring down an entire civilization to its feet with barely any effort on her part. Romano would be just plain stupid if he did not at least hold a large amount of fear and, grudgingly, some respect. She’s all his grandfather wanted him to be: rich and powerful. And here he is, cowering under a table like a goddamned baby. With that change in mindset, his previously terrified face turns to one of stubborn defiance. Even so, he remains under the table in case he happens to piss her off enough to blows. He’s be able to escape faster than it would take her to grab and then proceed to beat the shit out of him. In his childish voice, Romano replies with the vulgarity he tends to save directed for men. “It’s none of your damn business. So lemme alone, ya old hag.” He crosses his arms and glares up at her with apparent hatred. She’s the reason he had to leave his home and leave everything he loved behind. He was in enemy territories and must keep his wits about him. If not, he’ll surely be taken advantage of or hurt or maybe even killed. All of those are unacceptable in his books. And even if he has the appearance of a small child, that’s merely a false front. His mind is just as sharp as his vulgar tongue and he can hold his own. At least verbally and mentally. Physically, not so much. You can only be so strong when you’re only just over three feet tall.

That feeling of guilt Catalina had just a couple of minutes vanished the moment that child opened his mouth. “Old hag”? She was fifteen. Fifteen was not old! Well, technically speaking, she was a lot older than fifteen, but that was not relevant right now. All that mattered was that she looked fifteen.

“Excuse me?” Steel gleamed in her eyes. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

Not judging a book by its cover was definitely applicable in this situation. So much for that small, scared child she thought he was! She gave him her special “Bad idea to try and disrespect the girl with the battle axe” look, usually reserved for those idiots called her war generals.

“I just spent at least half an hour of my time to look for you. You are a nation and you need to act like one. Get out from under that table and get your act together.” She stood up and took a step back, arms crossed. Figures she should get stuck with the brat.

Lovino bravely, or stupidly, sneers up at the young woman. There’s a very fine like between being brave and being stupid, and he is indeed walking that line as we speak. He makes sure no trace of the fear in his soul shows on his face or in his body language as he stands his small ground under the table. Secretly, he’s scared shitless of this whole situation and now she’s giving him the scariest look she can muster. While it’s nowhere near as scary as his grandfather’s, it is enough for Lovino to want to shake in his little dusty boots.

He’s scared and tired from the long journey here and still a small child, and therefore only able to take so much. He’ll reach his breaking point some time sooner or later, and it won’t be pretty at all. Someone’ll have to deal with a small, pathetically sobbing child throwing an over tired temper tantrum in the near future. 

So he glares up at her defiantly, wiping his tear stained face. “Like I give a shit what you do in your time. It’s not my problem. I don’t even want to be h-here.” His lower lip begins to tremble. “I-I just wanna g-go home. I n-never wanted to c-come here or b-be a nation i-in the f-first place.” Oh, there it is. The first part of his breakdown. Here come the waterworks.