dear_mun | Maaaaybe looking for homes...

Yo, mun— H-Hey! I'm talkin' to you! Where are you going? Stop! Hey, look! You're not goin' anywhere today until you finish everything. All my tags, all of Alfred's tags, all of Cecil's tags, all the posts you said you were going to make and never did, all the new posts you're telling people you're going to make and haven't started yet, everyone's icons— Yeah, those job applications probably need to be filled out too if you want a call-back...

Mun! You're starting to make Canadia look real productive by comparison! What is going on here?! Don't make me go dig Ludwig out of his man-cave to run you through hoops!

And y'think you can maybe seriously start thinking about actually putting one of us somewhere? You have resources! Stop being so negative about everything! Grab your buddies and take them along! ...Well, okay, so maybe just one at a time, since, uh, they all just have England, but— Come on! We're getting kinda moldy over here. Not pretty. Please? You know you want to give it a try...

Okay! Sleep, then roll up your sleeves! Whoa! Hey, no! No, you're sending the kid there first— not me. I'm older, so I get to be picky. The kid gets tossed up to the Hotel first. It's already been decided! Now go the fuck to sleep. No, you don't need another bedtime story. Ugh. Where is that book...

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[Hello again, mysterious girl. You're much more talkative than the last time we met.]

Seeing as I feel that I've found myself in what feels like a purgatory of sorts, perhaps a game won't be too bad after all.

[England prefers to know what he's getting into, but even he can get antsy at times. His mun has next to nothing going on, and it gets boring, cooped up with a bunch of other Englands that aren't doing anything but idling around. After all, "games" can't be too difficult once the rules are figured out. And he's armed with that "I tried, so nobody can criticise me" attitude in the event that he should fail in an application, anyway.]

[ The mun remembered suddenly where there is a "listing" of games looking for places and she feels kind of stupid for not having remembered it sooner.

Amelia, on the other hand, really only cares about one thing— still: ]

You really have no idea who I am, huh?

[This mun would possibly somewhat maybe be interested in viewing such a thing. Also, mun is trying to look all fancy with small text too.]

I presume that you assume that I should? New film set to premier soon, perchance?

[Though really, England senses something else about this girl. Like she might be of one of them. ~~one of us one of us~~

He scrutinises her face- and nothing below that! Really!]

[ And succeeding! Very fancy, indeed. Ameri-mun approves so far. ]

Well, duh, you should! You're only England! And no! No new movie coming out. I make movies all the time though, just like you and everybody else.

[ But Amelia doesn't give him any other clues. She wants to see him figure this one out for himself— and if he can't, all the more to torture him with later, after luring him into a false sense of security. ]

[This girl sounds and smells like a certain burger muncher he knows. And it's not that England is dim, but he'll prefer to keep his guesses to himself in the case he's wrong. After all, Merlin looked different from how England remembered him. (But America isn't an ancient shape-shifting magician. So.)]

If you want me to know you, I'd think the most prudent thing would be to introduce yourself. You seem to know me, at any rate, so that's taken care of.

[ If you're implying she smells like processed meat and reheated bread...

Amelia frowns (okay, pouts, really) and crosses her arms over her chest. ]

No. Drop dead, England.

[Wow. RUDE. But cute. Which actually narrows it down rather easily.]

W-what?!

How is this- you-

[He moves up closer to her quickly, looking her over to see what this is all about, if his eyes are deceiving him.]

How...?

[ Amelia narrows her eyes and furrows her brow as realization dawns on him, leaning backwards to avoid the personal space invasion as much as possible. She gives him a little push backwards and sticks her tongue out at him with a small humph! and a cross of her arms over her chest. ]

Parallel universes. Alternate realities. You're a girl too where I'm from!

[Well, he just needed a moment, is all. He stumbles back a step, but is still gawking. England despises being tricked (he's fallen for a great deal of elaborate pranks in his time) but his gut seems rather trustworthy on this. Besides, after that incident with the cat-eared strippers from another dimension, he wouldn't doubt it.

Still. So uncouth.]

... I take it that you most likely don't assume the name of Alfred.

No.

[ America continues to glare a little at him. ]

It's Amelia. Amelia Jones, thanks.

[Well excuuuuuuuuuse me, princess! He was only making sure!]

A... pleasure to make your acquaintance. I, ah, suppose.

[What do when America is sulking?]

[ Excuuuuuuse you back! This is just slightly disorienting for her, okay? He lives in the same head as the England who was trying to get into her shorts not too long ago and it's a little hard to differentiate when they look exactly the fucking same and and and—

Man, she's pissed. This sucks and it's stupid and it's frustrating and she actually really doesn't want to start all over again.

So, of course, her only solution is to continue to sulk. ]

[This England sure doesn't know what her issue is, but parallel universe form or not, he's sure that she has to have at least one weakness. One that she shares with the counterpart he knows... she must, if she is an America. Time to confirm this. So, now to take out that little container of ice cream he mysterious has on hand...]

If I have approached you at a bad time, I'm sorry.

[ Oh, no-no-no-no, you do not get to just apologize and hope everything is peachy—

Haaaahhh!!!

Amelia's eyes go 'round as saucers once she spots what he's packin' and no matter how hard she wants to keep up the Scorned Woman act, she's got about a snowball's chance in hell at maintaining it when faced with— ]

—ice cream.

[England keeps a record of America's weaknesses, so of course he's going to make good use of it. Don't worry, America, he doesn't share it with others. It's for his own use only.

It's just a bit melted around the edges of the container, displaying how soft and perfect the current texture of the cold treat is. Surely Amelia can appreciate cookie dough, yes?]

Indeed. Fancy a bit?

[ Appreciate? Unf! Amelia is already getting a little handsy in favor of taking the ice cream. It's ice cream! She hasn't had it in... a few weeks. ]

Maaaaybe looking for homes...

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