[ Unlike America, France is happy to take a seat at the base of a nice shady tree once they crossed over, his purchases tucked beside his thigh as he looked up at the blond trying to get comfortable himself. It's like watching an anxious dog turn in circles before deciding a patch of carpet is suitable. Sanguis wasn't even here, America. Stop.

Trying to decipher the situation is difficult when France keeps going back to how he'd acted that one time a year ago. He'd wanted to think the other innocent as far as his intentions but the more he talks the less promising it looks. ]

There are definitely desserts that are sensual but they do not make everyone look attractive...

[ Oh, the bedroom eyes. Heathen eyes. France feels as if he's being undressed with those eyes and it's ...weird. It's still weird. He looks down at his communicator instead. Scroll, scroll, scroll... America performing fellatio on a fruit fucking scroll. He side-eyes the blond.

Bedroom eyes are still there. ]

Are you sure that your mind isn't weirdly impressionable? You did take this picture, after all...

[ Is he kissing the peach or licking it? Sir! ]