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Post by Sweden on Jul 10, 2011 9:59:45 GMT -5
(Well, I can't find where the dedication for the bridge took place so I'm pulling my Artistic License out of my bum. Time for some creative cow dung.)
It was a nice July day, Berwald thought. He'd accompanied his king, Carl XVI Gustaf, for the dedication ceremony and currently milled about with the security detail. Of course he'd dressed smartly for the occasion, having taken great care to select one of his best suits. Even then it didn't make him exactly stick out; just one more darkly dressed gentleman amidst the sea of dark uniforms of workers and security alike. Berwald's thoughts once again turned towards the weather, causing him to debate shedding his coat under the warmth of the sun. There wasn't much shade to be had on Peberholm, and since the stage was still being set up for the ceremony, Berwald had a feeling he'd be baking in the sun for quite a bit longer. He imagined they'd be here most of the day anyway. It wouldn't be long until he'd be eager to shed the fancy clothes but he'd have to endure for the sake of formalities and etiquette. It made him wonder if Mathias had taken as much care with his attire.
Speaking of which, he'd seen Queen Margrethe earlier while she'd been speaking with Carl, but had yet to see a specific Dane in question. It made him wonder if the other contributor to the construction of this bridge was going to show up at all for the occasion. It didn't seem out of character, but Berwald didn't think this was something the Dane would miss. Being able to see his loud brother had been one of the reasons the Swede had agreed to go to the dedication. He'd been quietly excited all morning crossing his half of the Øresundsbron at the prospect, and now felt a shadow of disappointment creeping up on him.
Pulling at the collar of his suit, Berwald allowed himself to then undo the buttons of his coat to try and alleviate some of the heat. At least the breeze coming from strait cooled things off a little. Playing with the cuff of one sleeve, Berwald turned to catch more of the breeze and wondered once again where the other nation was loitering. It looked liked the ceremony was going to be ready to get underway soon, the Swede would have to go join the formalities.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 12, 2011 5:29:36 GMT -5
Over thirty billion Danish Krone and five years worth of labour later, suddenly you could get from Denmark to Sweden in fifteen minutes. Miraculous. Mathias walked as close to the edge of Peberholm as he dared, reaching out to touch one of the many sturdy pillars that supported the bridge in its span over the Sound Strait. He was having difficulty containing his excitement. Sure, so his Freddie and Sverige's Vicki had already had a royal meeting at the midway point when construction had technically finished almost a year ago, but very soon – later today, in fact – he’d be able to simply drive into his brother’s country whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t even need a passport.
They sure had come a long way in the past five hundred years.
He patted the pillar as if for good luck and reluctantly pulled himself away from the water’s edge. The ceremony would soon be beginning. Margrethe would give him 'The Eyebrow' if he was late.
The group of Danes and Swedes converging around the stage were all formally dressed, and at Margrete’s insistence Mathias had gone along with the dress-code. Somehow he still managed to look scruffy. The dark suit jacket had been discarded on the drive through the tunnel and, as the July sun rose high, he’d rolled the sleeves of his black shirt back to the elbows. Now he reached for the red tie around his neck, loosening the knot a few centimeters and undoing the button of his collar as he headed back toward the group. Why was it that these occasions always called for the most uncomfortable clothing imaginable? And dark colours, too?
He moved to rejoin the crowd, catching sight of a familiar-looking figure as he did so.
Is that..?
A tall man in a sharp suit, set a few paces back from the others, was playing idly with the buttons on his cuffed sleeve. As Mathias drew nearer the blonde man turned, bespectacled gaze seemingly searching for someone. If he turned another few degrees they’d be facing each other, but even from the side he was easy to recognize.
Yep, definitely him!
Mathias had intended that his oldest friend would have come across him doing something very important and that he would greet Berwald civilly and perhaps a bit coolly, every inch a proud and respectable nation. That intention flew from his mind the second his eyes fell on his brother.
A wide grin glowing on his face, Mathias broke into a trot, quickly covering the distance between them.
“Berwald!” Completely disinhibited despite the public and formal nature of their meeting, the Dane barreled gleefully into the taller man from the side, enveloping the Swede in an exuberant hug. “You made it!”
Creative cow-dung FTW!
The "Freddie" and "Vicki" Den so irreverently refers to are the Crown Prince and Princess of Denmark and Sweden, respectively.
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Post by Sweden on Jul 12, 2011 8:17:39 GMT -5
“Berwald!”
Having just about started gathering with everyone else, Berwald's head snapped around at the sound of his name. There wasn't a doubt about who that voice belonged to and once he'd spotted the other nation, the Swede had just enough time to brace himself for impact. For most nations who pulled this kind of stunt with Berwald, it was like hitting a solid wall. But no matter how much time he had to prepare Mathias always managed to make him step back a varying amount of steps.
Berwald noted that he'd only had to take one step back this time to adjust after impact, a little stiff still at the beginning of the hug. Cheeks a little warm from the embarrassment of the assault in front of all the people present, he did loosen a bit and returned the embrace. It was a little awkward at first but once he'd managed to ignore the stares, the hug did feel more natural.
“You made it!”
“ 'Course made it,” came the gruff reply. It wasn't from any lack of sentiment or that he wasn't glad to finally see Mathias. The Swede was actually quite happy to see other even if it didn't show much on his face. He hadn't cracked a smile yet although it looked liked the idea of one was tugging at the corners of his mouth. It had been a while since they'd seen each other, hadn't it? Berwald thought, pulling back a bit at arms length. He couldn't help but frown though at Mathias' attire and started fixing the other nation's tie and collar.
“Th'bridge s'not 'scuse t'come bug me,” the Swede said, tightening up the tie. “Least not un'nounced.” Berwald would have elaborated if it wasn't for one of the security guards indicating that the ceremony was about to begin any time now. Nodding in acknowledgement, the Swedish nation patted the Dane on the shoulder.
“Talk t'ya after?” he asked with a slight raise of his eyebrows.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 13, 2011 5:01:15 GMT -5
Possibly taken by surprise, Berwald initially returned the hug mechanically but eventually relaxed into it.
“'Course made it,” he said, responding to Mathias' greeting with noticeably less warmth. The subtle set of his mouth, however, belied to the Dane a shared delight. It had been a long time since they last met. Too long.
Sverige was the first to step back, always more aware of the public eye than Danmark himself. Now a step apart, they regarded each other with famliar gazes. Sve was looking well, obviously fit and healthy, and smartly dressed in a very sharp suit. Teasingly, Mathias let out an appreciative whistle and tweaked Berwald's lapels, privately thinking the suit would soon become very uncomfortable in the heat. His own adjustments to the dresscode simply earned a frown from his straight-laced brother who could not help but reach to re-button Mathias' open collar matter-of-factly.
“Th'bridge s'not 'scuse t'come bug me,” Berwald warned, adjusting the red tie to a more respectable level. The smile that had been fixed to Mathias' face ever since he spotted the Swede slipped a slight degree. He'd been entertaining thoughts of popping over to Stockholm whenever he got a free afternoon.
Berwald seemed to notice the disappointment because as he finished attending to the tie he added, “Least not un'nounced.”
“Right.” Mathias nodded, good spirit returning. “Every second day, then?”
The response was a pat on the shoulder. Berwald quirked his eyebrows towards the security guard indicating the procedings were about to get underway. “Talk t'ya after?”
“Oh? That time already?" Mathias gestured for them to join the group with a sigh. He wasn't ready to put catching up on hold just yet. "Let's hope this is quick.”
Many of the others had taken already advantage of the temporary seating. Mathias seized two of the plastic chairs in the back and threw himself into one, indicating Berwald should take the other. He leaned back, balancing the chair on the back two legs as the MC began to welcome them in both Danish and Swedish. Even though he'd been looking forward to this day for years he couldn't stop his eyes from glazing over as the speaker began to talk earnestly of strengthening ties and creating opportunities for both countries.
At that point, Mathias undid the button of his collar again, sighing audibly.
Bored within the first ten minutes, he released his chair so that all four legs were back on the ground and let out another sigh. He had been so busy looking forward to crossing the bridge and seeing his brother that he'd forgotten how dry these things were. He killed another half-a-minute by inspecting his nails but by that point had run out of things to do to cover his disinterest. Reverting back to old an favourite that never failed to entertain, Mathias reached out and poked his brother in the arm. Twice.
“Berwald,” he whispered urgently. “What are you doing?”
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Post by Sweden on Jul 13, 2011 16:04:34 GMT -5
Raising an eyebrow at Mathias' statement of coming over every second day, Berwald wondered if the Dane had plans to drink him out of house and home. He barely kept his fridge stocked with beer since there wasn't very much reason, other than special occasions to drink any sort of alcoholic brew. He also thought at that rate that he would likely be eaten out of house and home as well. He already had once growing micronation at home to feed. Adding another mouth to his table, once he knew to have quite a ravenous appetite would likely empty his fridge faster than Peter could empty a jar of cookies.
He was still thinking of how to keep his house properly stocked as he sat down beside Mathias, his posture contrasting with the Dane. Berwald sat up straight in his seat, gaze politely turned towards the speaker even if he wasn't quite paying attention to all the formalities. It's wasn't like he didn't know why the bridge had been built. It had been a convenient and practical decision that he'd known would not only benefit both Sweden and Denmark, but the rest of Europe as well, by connecting the North to the mainland. At least, Berwald knew his boss had hoped that it would boost tourism a bit for everyone and it would be interesting to see if that turned out true.
At Mathias' sigh, the Swede glanced over curiously, lips thinning a subtly at what he noticed. Now aware that the other nation was growing bored, and frankly Berwald didn't really blame the other, he'd known that the ceremony would drag. When he'd glanced over again to see Mathias inspecting his nails, Berwald had a feeling it wouldn't be long until the other started seeking entertainment.
Thus the bespectacled blond wasn't surprised when he felt a finger poke his shoulder. “Berwald,” Mathias whispered urgently. “What are you doing?”
"N'thin'," answered Berwald, still staring ahead for a few more moments, before turning his head a bit to look at the Dane sideways. "S'isn't th'place t'start 'nythin' M'thias," he added hoping he sounded stern enough for the other to keep his maturity, but light enough that it wouldn't ruffle the other nation's feathers the wrong way. It wouldn't do for them, the nation persons, to get caught horse playing in the middle of an important political ceremony.
Trying to think of something quiet and unobtrusive to keep Mathias occupied with, Berwald nudged the other's hand with his knuckles and made a fist.
"Rock, p'per, scissors?" he asked quietly with a raised eyebrow. After he'd made sure everyone else's attention was still on the person speaking of course.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 14, 2011 6:01:39 GMT -5
Every inch as respectable and responsible as Denmark remembered, the taller nation did not rise to the jab at his shoulder. Berwald didn't even look around. "N'thin'."
Mathias leaned forward, an anticipatory smirk rising on his face. Being ignored wasn't particularly fun, but finding out how annoying he would need to be to crack his brother's composure and force a reaction would at least pass some of the boring speeches. Challenge accepted, he began to prod Sve's shoulder in time to the first tune that came to his mind. For no discernible reason, it was the William Tell Overture.
That certainly seemed to get the Swede's attention. He at least tilted his head a bit in Mathias' direction this time. "S'isn't th'place t'start 'nythin' M'thias," Berwald pointed out in a quelling tone that he must have honed to perfection on Sealand.
Well, if that was the only reaction Mathias was going to get it was hardly worth the effort. With a low snort of disgust at his brother's self-restraint, the Dane took up swinging on his seat again. The plastic bent precariously as the weight transferred from the back legs to the front. It wouldn't survive much more of such treatment.
Up on the stage, an elderly structural engineer was describing the process of building the bridge at length in hesitant Swedish. His eyes rolled skyward. Listening to it was almost painful, and not just because Sve's language always sounded like a drunken butchering of his own smoother tongue. If something interesting didn't happen soon he would have to leave before doing something Margrethe would later make him regret.
As if god-sent, his brother nudged his hand. Gazing down, he saw those strong fingers ball into a fist. Nonplussed, Mathias looked searchingly into the other's face for an explanation.
"Rock, p'per, scissors?"
Excellent! He turned eagerly away from the front of the stage.
“You're on!” He forgot to keep his voice down but fortunately his outburst was covered by a loud screech as the engineer unintentionally moved the microphone too close to the amplifier. When no one turned to shoot them accusing looks, he rotated more subtly towards his partner in crime.
With a nod, he lifted his hand in the customary three shakes. He'd been teaching Greenland a modern version called 'Bomb, Cockroach, Foot' a few weeks ago but gave up when the small proto-nation won seven matches in a row. Hopefully he'd have better luck this time around. Without any strategy or forward thinking, he moved his hand into 'paper' and glanced down to see what Berwald's move had been.
He couldn't help but laugh as he processed the outcome of the game, although he did manage to stifle the sound with the back of his other hand. He slapped Berwald's hand lightly with his open palm.
“Another round?” he asked in a low whisper, already shaking his hand thrice and forming 'scissors'.
XD They are the two naughty schoolkids who sit down the back and don't pay attention during assembly!
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Post by Sweden on Jul 14, 2011 16:18:54 GMT -5
Bobbing his fist up in down in time with Mathias, Berwald's mind was half on the game and half on the engineer's speech. He understood most of what was being said since he'd helped minimally on the plans a bit. It had been too interesting of a building project for him to have truly kept out of it, even without having all of the qualifications of an engineer to truly help. He'd mainly given some small inputs on the structure and had even suggested that half of the bridge be underneath the water, for the convenience of ships and their captains who didn't want to rely on the height of the non-submerged half of the construction to be right.
Thus Berwald wasn't surprised when he lost the first round of their game. "Another game?" asked Mathias, and the Swede nodded.
Giving the next round his full attention, he stuck with his choice of rock and gave a little smirk at the victory. Lightly smashing his fist on the Dane's fingers, he waited for them to start with the next round.
The spectacled nation was tempted to introduce the more hardcore version of Rock Paper Scissors to Mathias, but he had a feeling it would only frustrate the other. Especially considering since some of the things could be blocked or beaten and there was at least twenty options to choose from. Although he had a feeling since he'd stuck with rock twice now, Berwald was wondering if Mathias would go back to paper or stick to scissors in case the Swede used paper.
As mindless as the game was supposed to be, one could be surprised at how much strategy you could use to own's one opponent. As Peter often liked to say when they would play games.
"R'dy t'get owned?" quietly taunted Berwald in the spirit of things. He did look back up once though, to see how far along the ceremony was and noticed that both their royals were taking the stage, and getting ready to speak.
Totally XD
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Post by Denmark on Jul 15, 2011 7:22:51 GMT -5
Berwald bumped his 'rock' fist into Mathias' fingers with a triumphant little smirk. Oh well, there was bound to be a few losses on the path to overall victory. It wouldn't be much fun if he won all the time. At least this game had got off to a better start than his match with Greenland.
So that was... two rocks, now? Surely Berwald would change now. To... paper? No, too obvious. To scissors. The Dane made up his mind to go for rock.
“R'dy t'get owned?”
Mathias snorted. “As if.” Abandoning the pretense of listening to the speaker completely, the Dane swung his legs ninety degrees over the side of his chair so he was directly facing his brother and leaned closer. This game could potentially get intense. “I don't think you have what it takes to beat me. Score stands at one all. Want to play best of five? What do I get when I win?”
He began to shake his closed fist to start the next game but glanced around at the sound of a familiar voice.
He hadn't noticed their monarchs take the stage until King Carl XVI began to speak but he wasn't similarly unnoticed by them; seated at a right angle from the stage he must have stood out in the crowd. Margrethe had certainly spotted him; she was currently looking at him with thinned lips. She shook her head minutely when they made eye contact, her eyes narrowing a tiny amount until he twisted his body around to face the front again, forcing him to abandon the next round before the second bob of his hand.
“Hang on, Sve.” There was a distinct groan in his whisper this time. “Maggie's giving me The Look.”
Monarchs. Always ruining the fun. He wondered what Margrethe would do if ignored her subtle warnings. Would she make him stand up in the middle of the crowd for the rest of the ceremony, send him to the corner, forbid alcohol for a week? Probably the later, and maybe for even a month if she was really annoyed. He wouldn't be able to cheat, either. It was so annoying the power his bosses had over him when they issued a direct order.
“Better wait 'til after the Royal Spiel is over, else I'll be under house-arrest forever and never get a chance to use this bridge.”
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Post by Sweden on Jul 15, 2011 19:28:37 GMT -5
Turning his head to look his neighbor, the taller blond smugly raised an eyebrow. He didn't really care about the game but neither did he want to give Mathias any incentive to win. A challenge was always fun much like a puzzle that needed to be solved. Plus, it kept his shoulder from bruising because of the Dane's incessant poking.
Gaze going back to the podium he thought about what he could afford to offer, if the Dane should prove victorious. Berwald knew beer would be welcomed. Beer was always welcomed by the other nation, no matter kind or quality. Although Mathias often whined about the latter if the beer wasn't up to par with his adored Carlsberg. Food was another option. The Swede thought about offering pastries but had a feeling a cake would be in demand.
“Hang on, Sve.”
Those words pulled Berwald from his musings. When he realized what was happening, he noticed King Carl's eyes on him as well and missed the next thing the Dane said as he let his fist drop into lap quickly. He was surprised he'd been caught but had the feeling his monarch was more amused than angry with him and Berwald could admire the man's ability to keep talking as if nothing was happening.
“Better wait 'til after the Royal Spiel is over, else I'll be under house-arrest forever and never get a chance to use this bridge.”
Nodding his head in agreement with that statement, the Swede resumed paying attention to the proceedings. He clapped politely when Queen Margrethe was given the stage and couldn't help but notice the looks she kept sending their way. It was a little amusing, but he could understand why she had Mathias so cowed. He himself disliked the power their bosses had but depending of the human it wasn't so bad. He couldn't presently complain since Sweden's current Prime minister was rather lax regarding Berwald's affairs. Carl himself was rather easy going and more than happy to let the Swede carry on, so long as the work was done at the end of the day.
"S'a'right," he pipped up, after she'd finished speaking and started clapping politely again with the rest of the crowd. "Think s'almost over," Berwald added, as both the monarchs both took a handle on the large silver scissors and got ready to cute the ribbon.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 16, 2011 20:22:44 GMT -5
His Queen seemed pleased by his compliance but gawd was the Dane bored. Carl's eyes had also fallen on them so his brother was obediently attentive. Every time Mathias thought about touching Sverige's hand to begin another another game the ever-watchful Margrethe directed her gaze at him, seemingly severing the nerve supply to his arm. No matter how badly he wanted to continue their tournament, Mathias' hand didn't move.
It was humiliating that it happened in front of his brother. Margrethe looked more accustomed to a twinset and pearls than commanding armies like some of his previous bosses, but his body's response was the same; obedient, submissive. It would have been better if it was Lars up there. His prime minister at least appreciated how dull a ceremony could be and would have been egging him on in the game, backing a Danish victory.
Margrethe was speaking about how hard work, discipline and drive had seen the completion of the bridge through, with many a pointed glance at the wayward nation. Softening a little – as if she was contemplating Mathias' own feelings – she wound up her oration by touching on the joint links between Sweden and Denmark; their shared upbringing and their hopes for the future. It was poignant enough that prideful Mathias felt his breath stick in his throat as his life history, so enter-twined with his brother's, was laid clear on the table. Margrethe always knew how to strike a chord with the Danes despite her Dragon Mistress exterior. It was one of the many reasons the former Scandinavian King was so fond of her even though she routinely punished him by banning his intake of alcohol.
If no one else had been around and he hadn't been so sure that his brother would have ribbed him for it, Mathias might have grabbed Berwald's hand as she outlined her dreams for their future, dreams that far outlived her own lifetime. She smiled wistfully as she spoke. The unruly nation sometimes doubted how much the Queen cared for him when a cantankerous mood set them at loggerheads but her commitment to his prosperity was always beyond reproach. Another factor was how her accusatory gaze wasn't limited to the Dane; it extended to Sweden as well. Margrethe had always assumed that any blame for their past, present and future disagreements was shared between them both.
Mathias liked her very much.
”Ingen er rig nok til at undvære en nabo. Vejen til en vens hus er aldrig lang,” Margrethe concluded, her eyes making contact with Mathias' for the duration of the summation, "Men nu er det kortere."
His brother started clapping with the rest of the crowd, but in a way that suggested the Queen's words had not been as meaningful for him.
“S'a'right,” Berwald said in his ear, “Think s'almost over.”
"Thank God."
He was right, of course. The two royals came together, each placing a hand on an over-sized pair of scissors. Margrethe added the company's English slogan, ”The easy way to Sweden,” and smiled at the Swedish King. Their hands moved in tandem, cutting the ribbon that sealed off the bridge and separated the two countries.
The crowd stood and cheered. Mathias' face cracked into a huge smile. He punched Sverige hard in the shoulder.
”No turning back now, Sve. I have a direct line to you.”
It was a pleasing thought.
”So. What now?”
Margrethe's recites some Danish proverbs = “No one is rich enough to do without a neighbor. The road to a friend's house is never long, but now it's shorter.”
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Post by Sweden on Jul 17, 2011 11:04:17 GMT -5
To say that the words weren't meaningful for the Swede was untrue. He was touched by the gracious words, it simply just didn't show on his face or in his posture. Or perhaps the the mechanicalness of his motions in following the crowd was just a hint of it. Too used to being everyone's rock, Berwald always guarded his feelings even when he knew sometimes it would just be better to loosen up. Old habits died hard and he doubted ancient ones could be broken, when you did it everyday.
He did turn to give Mathias an amused smile though, when the other one sighed in relief at the ceremony being over. The smile vanished though, replaced by a groan and quiet facepalm when Berwald heard the slogan. Now that was one thing he'd just hadn't been able to agree with and had fought time and time again to have it changed. That was until his Prime Minister had ordered him to stop. Of course the humans couldn't really understand why the slogan had sounded so awful to the Swede. He could just imagine the jibes that would be thrown at him at the next meeting and especially Francis. Gods, Francis would likely think the damn bridge would be an excuse to get touchy with him or something.
Why couldn't the slogan have been 'The easy way to Denmark'? Or 'The easy way across the Sound'? Why couldn't it not have had the word 'easy' in it? Really, Berwald had a mind to find the one responsible and just stare the person down until they regretted their decision. Considering the slogan was 'The easy way to Sweden', the bespectacled nation had a feeling it was Mathias' fault.
A punch to his shoulder roused him from his embarrassed thoughts.
”No turning back now, Sve. I have a direct line to you.”
Giving the Dane his best glare, Berwald returned the punch to other's shoulder just as hard. After that bit of retribution, the Swede's face resumed it's normal air and he shook his head. "D'rect line or not, still 'spect ya t'call b'fore y'come over," he grumbled. Keeping his seat as everyone stood to clap and cheer, he stayed put even after people started drifting away to go stand and talk in groups, or slowly head home or to the nearest bar for a celebratory drink.
”So. What now?”
Considering the question Berwald finally stood and stared over the crowd, trying to spot his monarch. Finding King Carl and making eye contact with the man, the king nodded and lifted his arm in a shooing motion with a bit of a smile, dismissing his nation persons to go do what he pleased. Returning the nod to show he understood, Berwald looked back down to regard Mathias.
"Could go sumwhere," he suggested with a shrug. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, the Swede had a feeling they'd either be going to his home, or hitting a bar. It was hard to decide which could prove the least destructive in the long run, knowing either option would involve the imbibing of a ridiculous amount of alcohol.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 18, 2011 5:17:56 GMT -5
The Swede stood. Not wanting his brother to tower above him, Mathias also got to his feet.
Berwald didn't answer straight away. Instead, he was gazing over the crowd at something, nodding at whatever he saw. It was mystifying to the Dane, who didn't realize that Sverige was seeking permission from his King. Now that Margrethe was out of sight, Mathias barely spared her a second thought.
"Could go sumwhere," his brother said finally, shrugging a little as if he couldn't add any more to the suggestion.
Going somewhere else sounded fantastic, seeing as Peberholm was a spit of land currently infested by dull state officials in suits and very little liquor. It was also very hot, and he was getting hungry. Mathias was itching to cross the bridge for the first time, but he wanted to walk around Skåne by himself first; it was awkward to reacquaint himself with his old province in front of Berwald, especially given all the fighting they'd done over it. Even though it hadn't been his for a while, it always made the Dane feel odd walking around it if he hadn't been there for some time. It was like he'd forgotten that it wasn't his until he'd arrived and realized all over again that he could no longer feel the pulse of this land.
Best to get all of that out of his system another time.
"You want to go into Copenhagen? Seems like I haven't seen you in there for ages." He looked over to the road, wondering if Berwald had driven. Mathias himself had taken a ride with some of Margrethe's security detail, but they were still busy attending to their monarch and wouldn't allow him to take their car himself. "You haven't been through the Drogden Tunnel yet, right? We can take the "easy way to Sweden" another time."
He fought to control a snigger successfully, but couldn't prevent a smirk from twisting his lips. That was one of the stupidest slogans he'd heard in some time.
True to form, his next suggestion addressed the issue of his thirst. "Shall we go have a quiet drink somewhere?"
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Post by Sweden on Jul 19, 2011 18:42:58 GMT -5
Relieved to hear that they wouldn't be going into Malmö or Stockholm, Berwald released a slight sigh, shoulders visibly relaxing with the feeling. Word of the upcoming shenanigans wouldn't reach his bosses ears as fast, if things happened to get out of control. Then again, nothing could happen as well, and it would just be a regular evening, at a regular bar, drinking regular beer and just getting ordinarily tipsy or drunk. Berwald highly doubted that, though.
"You want to go into Copenhagen? Seems like I haven't seen you in there for ages."
"Sure," he finally said in answer, following it with a nod. Going to Copenhagen would be nice, especially outside of work or summits. It had been a while since Berwald had been there on a casual visit. He supposed he could endure Mathias bragging about the city as usual, especially about things that had changed since the last time the Swede had been there. Or the just the beer.
It didn't stop Berwald from punching the Dane in the shoulder, for the snicker about the slogan. The hit wasn't particularly hard, but it was a clear message that Berwald blamed Mathias for it. The frown that followed also bolstered the accusation. The Swede was shaking his head afterwards though at the silliness of it, good humor returning.
"Shall we go have a quiet drink somewhere?"
"Sounds good," replied Berwald to the question with a slight nod of his head. When Mathias didn't offer to drive though, the blonder nation assumed the other hadn't taken his car. He supposed it was good of him to have had the forethought to bring his own vehicle. Driving over the bridge had been rather relaxing, to get to Peberholm. Berwald didn't think the drive through the tunnel would be just as peaceful."M'car s'o'er there," he said, gesturing the direction he'd parked his Volvo.
Motioning for Mathias to follow, the Swede turned to make his way towards the vehicle, shedding his suit jacket. Folding the item over his arm, he then fished his keys out of his pocket and pressed the button to unlock the doors as they neared it. It was an S80 dark blue sedan, Berwald having preferred the curves on the vehicle, rather than the boxiness of the other Volvo models. He waited politely for the Dane to take the passenger side first, before climbing into the driver's seat and starting the vehicle.
"Dun touch 'nythin, other than y'seatbelt," Berwald warned, not wanting his passenger to start playing with every knob and doohickie in the sedan. Securing himself to his seat with a click of the belt, he checked his mirrors and carefully maneuvered the car towards the tunnel, getting in line behind the other vehicles waiting for the okay to leave.
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Post by Denmark on Jul 21, 2011 15:56:38 GMT -5
Berwald nodded. “Sounds good.”
There was a semi-awkward pause in which the Swede was clearly waiting for his brother to volunteer to take them through, but Mathias just grinned. He'd given up driving quite some time ago, preferring instead to cycle almost everywhere. He didn't even know if his car still started at the moment.
It looked like Berwald was trying to refrain from sighing when he pointed over to the road. “M'car s'o'er there.”
“Great!”
It was lucky that at least one of them had a car, otherwise they would have had to contemplate stealing the cars from Margrethe's security team. Actually, that could have been good fun. Maybe next time.
Mathias loped along after his brother, eyes scanning the cars. Berwald took unnecessary pride in his Volvo's, and it was a sure bet that he had come in one today. The Dane couldn't really understand it; a car was a car. They all had four wheels and most had four doors. What was there to get excited about? Now beer, that was a different a story. There was a point in having national pride over beer.
The taller nation deactivated the central locking of a blue car when they drew near it. Mathias spared it enough attention to confirm the Volvo badge before clambering in to the passenger's side.
“Dun touch 'nything, other than y'seatbelt.” Berwald was barely in the car before he issued that command.
The Dane stuck his tongue out, abandoning reaching for his seatbelt, and instead deliberately reached out to poke three buttons on the center console in quick succession. The result was catastrophic as he succeeded in turning on the radio, the hazard lights, and the heater on full bore.
“Ah!” He jabbed at a few more buttons hurriedly. It took several tries before he managed to undo the mayhem. When he finally got the hazard lights off, he dropped his hand into his lap and looked straight ahead, not daring to look Berwald in the face. He suspected the Swede was looking at him with one of those withering glares.
He pulled the belt over him and clicked it in. It was about then that he couldn't contain his laughter. He bent over a little, rocking with mirth.
Gaining control, he straightened. “Don't touch anything. Other than the seatbelt. Got it.”
A glance at the wing mirror showed more people moving to their cars. They would have to move relatively quickly if they didn't want to be bottle-necked by the other celebrants.
“Is there anywhere in particular you want to go in Copenhagen? Let's get going now. I won't touch any more buttons, I swear.” He hold his hands up in a gesture of surrender and dissolved into more gales of laughter.
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Post by Sweden on Jul 22, 2011 7:43:12 GMT -5
Things were calm until the radio, hazard lights and the heater turned on.
"Danmark!" barked Berwald, whipping his head around so fast any normal person would have gotten whiplash. Honestly, dealing with Mathias sometimes was no better than dealing with a child. He couldn't compare the Dane to Peter since his adopted boy actually listened when Berwald said something. Unlike some people...
Letting his brow rest against the steering wheel, the Swede prayed for patience. He took a few deep breaths, imagined quite vividly a few gory scenes and once the urge to flail his arms at the Dane to make him stop touching the console, that's when Berwald fixed his passenger with his withering glare. He sat and stared at Mathias when the other put on his seatbelt. He stared through the giggling and laughing. He stared in that exact way that he often knew made the Dane squirm with discomfort when no one else was around. It was times like these where Berwald actually liked the results of his stare.
The stare was only broken after the spectacled nation noticed the other looking at the mirrors, and Berwald made his own check. People were starting to get going, and looking ahead revealed that the line in front of him was starting to move forwards. Giving the vehicle some gas to get it moving as well, the Swede relaxed into his seat. An idea came to mind and with a small but tight smile he glanced over at Mathias.
“Is there anywhere in particular you want to go in Copenhagen? Let's get going now. I won't touch any more buttons, I swear.”
"Good," rumbled Berwald, still smiling that little smile. It looked forced and it sort of was, but it indicated that he thinking about something particularly unpleasant to unleash on his passenger.
The volvo was moving at a steady pace now, it took a few minutes for it to reach the mouth of the tunnel and go down into it. Accelerating up to the speed limit, Berwald reached over to the dash and fiddled with some buttons, turning on the tape player. Most of the car models nowadays were doing away with the tape players in favour of putting in CD players. Still possessing tapes in good condition, Berwald had insisted on keeping the tape player instead of the CD player. Thus now, he ejected the tape currently in the player, one of Peter's favorites and inserted one of his own. If Mathias was going to make trouble during the drive, the Swede thought that as the driver of the vehicle he should get to listen to music he liked to drown out his passenger.
Making sure there were no imminent dangers of collision, Berwald pushed play and returned his hand to the steering wheel. Having taken quite a liking to dance music recently, Ace of Base blasted out of the speakers. The Swede turned it down a little and then looked at Mathias, thinking about the earlier question.
"Tha' place w'usually g'to still open?" he asked, referring to their usual bar of choice when they both had free time in Copenhagen. Especially when one or more of the other three Nords were with them.
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