France is drunk.
France: My dear little alcoholic~
England: It sounds vulgar. Right now you're drunk.
France: Yes, after all those years of dragging you out of pubs when you were drunk as a skunk.
England: ...
France: ...
France: I'm sad. Say something that will make me happy.
England: After a thousand years of enmity and the torment of our relationship, I have agreed to marry you. And now, I'm your husband, and you're mine.
France: Yes, perfect.














