Practice Makes Perfect [Mexico/Germany]

[Mexico - José Francisco]

José considered himself a genuinely nice person, who would help another struggling. He had to be a nice person because his neighbor certainly gave North America a bad name. It was up to José to represent the truth about North America to the world, and not let ego arrogant idiots dictate the conversation. José was super nice, and he had witnessed a terrible crime last year when Germany completely choked during the World Cup. Germany, one of the best football players out there, just….it was almost like watching a train accident. Germany was struggling, and José knew he could help.

Never being one to recognize any type of boundaries between himself and other nations, José ended up hopping over the back fence of Ludwig's house. He had gotten lost trying to find Ludwig’s place, and finally managed to, but managed to somehow be facing the back instead of the front of the home. Though José had no idea and thought it was the front, even if he found it strange that there wasn’t a clear entrance. Germans, who was José to judge their setup? He hadn’t told Ludwig his plans to visit and help the struggling nation, mostly because José had completely forgotten he had not told Ludwig. When he first came up with this wonderful idea, he had been….a tad inebriated, and basically hopped on a plane here without another thought.

He went to the back door and found it locked. He considered knocking, and then considered that the open window would be just as easy. He walked through the bush and went through the window, exploring the area of the house he was now in, with the football under his arm. “Ludwig! Hola! I'm here for our game! You ready!” he shouted into the house, hoping it would grab the nation’s attention.

[Germany - Ludwig Beilschmidt]

At it happened, Ludwig was busy in his home office. There was going to be another meeting of the EU soon, and he needed to be prepared for it - he suspected, given who needed to be taken to task for doing what (or, more accurately in most cases, what they were failing to do) that his emotions might be a bit high for this particular meeting, and he'd found it particularly helpful to make sure that his notes very well organized in those situations. At the very least, it helped him stay on topic so that his critiques were to the point rather than branching out into their other failings that were not necessarily relevant to the topic at hand.

He was in the thick of this when his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some odd noises coming from his kitchen. He stopped to listen for a moment - someone was in his house? He was already starting to get up to look when a shout not only confirmed his guess but identified the culprit. He frowned and quickened his pace, not concerned enough to run but bothered enough to walk quickly.

When he rounded the corner and spotted the trespassing nation, he stopped and crossed his arms against his chest. Because he was at home for most of the day, he was dressed quite casually at the moment - a least for him: a black shirt with khaki slacks, that could be dressed up with the right jacket in about two seconds flat if he wanted to go out. "Vhat are you doing here? You don't have an appointment..." he asked immediately, "And vhat are you talking about? Vhat game?"

He tried to strike a good balance between being stern but not too harsh - it was always possible that José had a good reason for interrupting him so he didn't want to turn him away out of hand. That already wasn't seeming likely, but he'd give him at least a momentary benefit of the doubt.