kirthurarkland:

He almost rolled off the sofa when she pushed him again, as there was a hell of a lot of strength behind that push. A surprising amount, actually. Hm, perhaps his usual method of force wasn’t going to work as well, this time. At least, he’d have to put more effort into it, or perhaps actually have a weapon. Admittedly, he’d underestimated her. He stood up when she did, standing in front of her with a grin. Oh, her loyalty was so funny, so cute. And just what did she think she was going to do with that bottle? Stupid, stupid wo—

His head snapped to the side and he yelled in pain as the sharp glass cut his face, leaving a long diagonal gash from temple to lip. He clutched his cheek, feeling the warm blood starting to flow over his hands and drip onto the carpet, trickling down his sleeve and staining it crimson. He growled, eyes glowing in rage. “Augh— my face!” he shouted, staggering to his liquor cabinet in search of something to stem the flow of blood. He opened an eye, hoping to see some tissues, or a towel, or anything— instead he saw something he was very happy to see at this moment in time.

When he spun around to face her again, he was holding up his gun - the huge old pistol with the massive barrel, the “hand-cannon” as he sometimes called it. He glared at her, now ignoring the blood streaming down his face and neck, finger twitching on the trigger as he ached to pull it.

It was almost a funny notion to underestimate her. She wasn’t too much smaller than her male counterpart. Only a few inches shorter and not to mention she was still a mildly thick woman. Combine that with being a nation and certainly she must have been strong. There must have been plenty of things that Arthur wasn’t remembering about her and how she was. What kind of block was he having?

When he lifted the wide barreled gun and aimed it at her, she didn’t change face. Oh, it was going to hurt, more than a normal shot judging by the gun’s appearance. Of course, it hadn’t been the first time she was looking down the barrel of a gun. She bit back a laugh. She wanted to just laugh in his face, so very very hard. Her foot tapped lightly as she stared at him. “Really, Arthur?” She tilted her head a bit and shifted her weight. “Pointing a gun at a lady? How rude~” A small smirk had formed on her face by now. “Are you going to shoot me? Come now, I only gashed your face because you were forcing yourself on me.” With a shrug, she finally laughed just a bit.

“What a big man you are with that gun of yours.” She fiddled with the bottle in her hands before trying to slash him again. At least if she hit she could say she was able to do so before he shot her.

(Source: russianwater)