- 066. Naughty
Romano grinned wickedly to himself. Oh, that b*****d was gonna regret having ever messed with him... Having to do chores, learn his stupid language, being stuck in such a huge house? Oh, he deserved what he had coming, without a doubt.
Though, God, it was hot. He'd forgotten just how strong the midday sun could be, especially when one was decked head-to-toe in black. Well, it would be worth it. The Italian chucked darkly to himself, brushing his fingers over his mask, and tucked himself further into the wild plants that grew against the house's outer wall.
All he had to do was wait until Spain- wait, was that him? Lovino narrowed his eyes. Yes, it was Spain, singing some dumbass song, even his way of walking angering the little Italian.
Justice was immenant, though, that much was clear.
But oh, it seemed the universe really did hate little Lovino Vargas, after all. His plot to scare the b*****d only made him laugh and ruffle his hair (coming dangerously close to his curl, mind you, and he didn't look particularly innocent of it). [******** him ******** him ******** him-- his cheeks puffed, colored red, and Spain made a little passing comment about him looking like a tomato.
"I want churros, damnit." Romano demanded, before slinking off to pout in privacy.
Someday, Lovino, someday, you'll get him.
