Odd running into you here [England]

Uncertainty and suspicion immediately followed when Yao had reached out to Arthur for a rather surreptitious meeting in Morocco. It was neutral grounds, where neither could really maneuver against the other, a place for tourists to escape the ambiguity currently resting in the world. Arthur only made his trip known to the people who essentially needed to know where he would be. He didn’t contact any of his allies, just his own officials about the location, but not the reason for his visit. This was an extremely common place for his people to go on holiday, and that was evident by the occasional intonation of a British couple or family passing by, pointing out the various shops and sights.

Arthur had dressed to blend in, but even so, the air that he was emanating put him severely out of place. He wasn’t here on holiday, he didn’t have the same ease in his walk, the careless gaze of a tourist. He wore cropped trousers along with a short sleeved, cotton shirt. It was absolutely out of the ordinary to see Arthur wearing anything so casual, normally donning something a little sharper, a little more professional. Instead of oxfords, he wore trainers. And over his eyes, Arthur wore shades to both protect his eyes from the bright sunlight reflecting off the structures and to keep others from noticing exactly where his gaze was landing.

He knew exactly the spot where he was told to meet, and he took an intricate way to get there, weaving between the buildings, mapping out the area, and keeping a mental note of all the shops and if there were any individuals that seemed to either be following or watching him. Arthur wouldn’t exactly call himself paranoid, but took precaution very seriously and it didn’t hurt, in his mind, to be meticulous with the details. All of that was almost hilariously in vain, as Arthur was about to turn down the street that would lead closer to where he was supposed to be, trying to maneuver between the people walking past. Arthur only stopped when he felt the heavy hand over his shoulder, a heaviness that bleed through a message of authority and surety along with that unmistakable sensation of being within the presence of another nation.

Arthur felt his stomach drop with being discovered, leaving behind an unpleasant sickly residue in his mind. With the sickening feeling of falling residing, Arthur turned around to face Ivan, attempting to brush aside his grip so that he could move closer to the other. Arthur’s lips at first thinned severely before they curved in the smallest manner, immediately seeing the false smile as well as the threat behind his words. ”Hello, Ivan. Fancy meeting you here,” he spoke rather dryly, though the respectability hadn’t left his tone. Despite what the Englishman may have held in his most private of thoughts, or the rough history that had developed between the two within the last century, he did hold a grudging respect for him. That much alone was earned.

”I’ll decline. I’ve never developed a taste for it over the years. However, perhaps you would prefer my company instead,” it came out more as a clear statement than a question of preference, and Arthur’s gaze slowly looked Ivan over from beneath the shaded glass, calmly folding his arms as he waited for a response. He wasn’t being rude, still well-mannered and respectful, but he also wasn’t avoiding acknowledging that Ivan had seen and caught up with him, and very likely knew of why Arthur was there in the first place. ”It has been a pitifully long while since we’ve last spoken. Perhaps we can sit.” Arthur glanced at the several bistros and cafés surrounding them, wordlessly giving Ivan options, his eyes still prudently surveying the other nation.

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tag // Russia - Ivan Braginsky

Feeling the way that Ivan’s hand held on for that moment longer, as well as seeing his entire mannerisms with him, it was clear that the respect was not going to be reciprocated. Pity. Arthur frowned, his expression losing a hint of that usual regard as he observed Ivan. If the man wasn’t going to give him the same, most minimal effort of respect, then he wasn’t going to waste his time on such drivel. The man was obviously either too resentful to be halfway decent or he was too tangled in his own mind to even have the capability of offering it. Arthur’s head angled ever so slightly with Ivan’s first comment. ”If you’re the opposite of odd in that case, then I’ll wear that label. I think anyone would wear it proudly by that classification,” he remarked, soft, wry humour bleeding between his words.

And it was also clear by the way that Ivan looked down at him, that he seemed to lavish in it. Which only caused a hint of tension in his brow. Arthur just looked at Ivan in an almost lazy fashion as he started to turn and walk, as if he expected him to follow like some senseless dolt whose thoughts were immediately washed away by his presence. Arthur stayed where he was, looking at him in a rather flat, unimpressed manner. ”Sorry, but I'm not inclined,” he responded rather dryly, this time with no pretense of deference, his voice nearly humoured and entirely disingenuous over the word ‘sorry.’ It wasn’t present with Ivan, so why the hell would Arthur keep up the charade? ”It seems to me that you’re the one far more interested in talking to me, darling… That interest is not reflected, I’m afraid. If you want to talk, then you’re going to need to appeal to me. And with that, I expect absolute minimal regard. If you can’t deign to offer even that, then we have nothing to talk about.” All spoken very calmly, but with a certain lilt of authority that he was used to employing. Part of him was rather cross at this point and the other simply wanted to see Ivan’s reaction, to see how he would respond.

The two of them hadn’t spoken in a long while, and so far, Arthur was hardly impressed and not interested in pursuing any potential conversation further. And he certainly wasn’t in any mood to attempt to play the fool, not when he had nothing to gain from this encounter other than the knowledge that he would be looking at further requests for supposedly secret meetings with a generous amount of distrust. What tosh. That, perhaps, was what Arthur was the most secretly agitated about. But, for now, Arthur stood his ground, not moving forward and not turning his back on the other nation. Not yet.

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tag // Russia - Ivan Braginsky