Discussion Between Gentlemen [China]

He used friend loosely to describe the older man. Their relationship had always been a balance between respect and turmoil. He supposed his own actions played a role. He had met the man when the rules of mercantile controlled Europe and his actions. The world only had a limited amount to offer, and if the British Empire wished to continue to grow he had to control more and more resources and expand across the seas. During the time, he came close to the owner of the East India Company, often traversing by boat to their many forced trading partners across the world, including China. The Opium Wars could tentatively be considered an outreach of his power, but the tosser had been unbearably difficult in regards to trade. He responded appropriately. Yao also became more reasonable under the influence of opium. Before the beginning of the wars, they had spent days lounge in an old hut sharing his pipe. Words flowed with ease and the man halted with his rubbish about denying him access to resources. He never considered the man would blame him for his addiction. Arthur supplied, but he had not forced the bloody pipe into his mouth. It led to multiple years of war until they came to terms.

The centuries to follow traveled down similar paths. Tibet and Hong Kong played into further difficulties, but even throughout the constant bickering, he recognized respect. He could hold an educated conversation with Yao for hours unlike Francis and Alfred who waffled about one absurd idea after another. In truth, he enjoyed the man’s company, especially over tea.

He caught site of his slight bow as their hands disconnected. The Asian culture always held a tinge of the exotic, and he never been able to comprehend the full scope of each subtle mannerism. He did not consider himself rude, so to make up for the gaff, he made a quick abrupt small bow as well, as he returned to his seat.

He made no comment to the mention of friends. As the war stood now, they sat on opposite sides, and while most of his men stayed in Europe, he had a few in the Middle East fighting against his army. Instead, he looked for a waiter, impatience written all over his features. He felt uncomfortable in this environment. “Bloody service in tourist areas,” he muttered. As his eyes locked on the waiter, his finger quickly rose to the air to catch his attention. When the waiter moved in their direction, he finally returned his attention back to Yao.

He tried to relax back in his chair. “To be frank, we have known each other for many centuries and I feel there is mutual respect between us,” he stated, leaving little room for argument in his words. He might have respect for Yao, but a simmering anger in regards to his recent actions against Japan could certainly be caught beneath the surface. He hid it well for it had no place in this conversation. War was war. People were hurt, even those he considered close friends. “Russia and America have allowed their bitter hatred and arrogance to drive this war out of hand, so I hoped to reach out to you, a man of reason, to see if we might come to some terms as we have done in the past,” he knew any terms set would have little effect without both Alfred and Ivan’s agreement, but neither of those two seemed to have any interest of coming to the table. He could at least work to taking one of his enemies off the chess board and focused on more prosperous options.

The waiter finally arrived to take Yao’s order, and Arthur used the moment to take a sip of his tea.

He sipped his tea impatiently, as the man gave his order. The cool sea breeze calmed his tense features, but it could not chase away the underline worry in the back of his mind. The frog could handle it. He could be capable on occasions, and hopefully beard face would be smart enough to know not to mention his absence from the front to Alfred. His actions were for the boy’s own good, and he would not stand to be scolded by his old ward.

His sharp green eyes noticed the way Yao leaned on the table. His appearance reminded him of a snake slithering in the grass. Arthur had his spouts with religion, especially during his early days, not that he considered himself overly religious now, but he often considered Yao more than capable of playing the snake who woe Eve to the apple in the Garden of Eden. The man had a talent for words that could be twisted into poetic beauty. You had to have a keen eye to see the meaning behind his words, and if you did not, you likely would be trapped within them. He scoffed, “Hardly.” He set his teacup back down on the plate and shifted in his chair to face the man on directly. He knew they had difficulties in the past, but Yao could still be a man of reason.

He would have flat out laughed at his next questions if he knew it would not be rude to do so. Arthur had presumed that the made driving force of the war was Russia and that Yao only took action to strengthen his own influence in the war. It only made sense for Yao’s military had not participated in many active military engagements. It almost felt like the man were holding back his strength, waiting until they destroyed each other. He had not been thrilled with his actions against Kiku, but yet still China had not taken his military to Kiku’s home. To Arthur, he could see the potential of an olive branch. “I have no intention of surrendering,” he remarked, “As long as Russian troops occupy European lands, I will fight.” He paused and reached out over the table, tapping his finger in front of him, as they locked eyes, “But as it stands now, I have no reason to fight with you, Yao.”

“What is it that you want, and maybe we can to an agreement…like gentlemen,” he said before leaning back into his seat.

Yao had his own talent with words, manipulating them as easy as he manipulated the nations around him. Arthur had learned to listen, and listen closely when the man spoke, not out of respect, but rather out of self-preservation. Hidden under eloquence and exotic culture, there laid a powerful dragon preparing to destroy all around him with the flames of his breath. But a dragon can be tempted into lazy relaxation by gold and pretty objects. Provide a mountain of gold, the dragon may never wake, and oh how Arthur saw Yao to be the same. Gold or a cute new stuff animal always had a way of calming the power.

A smirk pulled along his lips as he felt the graze of his finger against his chin. His demand was ludicrous and would certainly not be accepted under any terms. Arthur might find himself tired and exhausted from war, but surrendering had always been an action against his dignity. His own hand lifted and took Yao’s in his, bringing it up to his lips and placing a soft kiss on the top. His sharp green eyes locked with his as he spoke against his skin. “I can keep many secrets, but such an action would never occur, especially when all I ask is only your neutrality,” he answered, and pulled his lips away from his skin.

He did not let go of his hand, rather slowly guided it towards the table, as the sea breeze brushed through his messy hair and disheveled outfit. He hardly noticed for the time being. “I only ask for you to do nothing and announce your no longer involve in the war, and in return, I will temper America and Japan’s rage against you,” he answered clearly, "It's a fair deal you should consider."  More than fair in Arthur's mind.  He knew Kiku and Alfred, and the two in their current mood would soon bring the fight to China dragging out the war for another thirty years.

The blush on Yao’s cheek made him delectable. Arthur felt tempted to take a bite from him, and hold his skin in his mouth like a savory candy. His lips pulled into a smirk at the image of his enemy caught in the passions of pleasure. They were on opposite sides once again, and for the life of him, Arthur could not understand why. Yao could be a reasonable man, educated and well versed. They held far more similarities than differences and yet when war arose they often had a line drawn between them. His fingers slipped from his hold, and the brief moment of touch of historical memories left. His own hand went back and rested on the table, tapping it causally as he waited for Yao’s answer.

He thought his offer had been more than reasonable. Alfred appeared in a rage over Kiku, and Kiku…he appeared darkened and serious. An expression he had not seen since the last World War, and if Yao were wise, he would remember the territory and blood the Japanese had caused on his land. Arthur had offered him a way out and a step towards peace.

His fingers abruptly stopped tapping the table as the brutal no landed in the air. It disappointed him to hear, which was putting it politely because Arthur’s brow currently twitched with outright irritation and annoyance. Forgotten is the nice weather around them and the sound of the ocean, Arthur’s emerald eyes turn sharp, and he grabbed the bottom of his chair, shifting it around the table and next to Yao. Chair itself scrapped against the ground and caused unneeded noise in the quiet atmosphere and drew attention to the two, but Arthur appeared to not care at all. Once next to him, he placed a firm hand on his thigh and turned to look directly at him, one elbow on the table as if trapping him in the small space between him.

“Not to be rude, but I don’t think we are understanding each other,” he said, as if he were not in his personal space, “I am not against the war. I will fight in this bloody damn thing until my or Russia's last breath. However, what do you have to gain from this war?” he pried, his sharp eyes meeting his, before he moved closer to Yao, barely pressing his lips against the lobe of his ear, as if telling him a secret, “Especially when you have so much to gain with not being a part of it.” To make his point clearer, his thumb rubbed up the inward of his thigh.