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Lagunbiru Wildcard
[Lithuania has had enough to drink now that he's pretty sure he's tipsy. He's at least way too warm and a lot more cheerful than he usually feels in a party sort of situation. Everything's so delicious here, it's hard to convince himself to slow down on the alcohol. Oh well, he's from Eastern Europe, isn't he? He'll be fine! He looks sidelong at the first person to wander over to the bar without paying too much attention to who it actually is.]
The beer here is good, isn't it?
The beer here is good, isn't it?
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That's unlikely, of course, but the niggling suspicion is the reason that England's own beer remains untouched in front of him on the bar. He scoffs a bit at the question.] Doubt it's as good as what we've got back home.
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[This means he has not tried it yet for fear of stumbling upon aphrodesiacs or something.]
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[At all the people fucking, he means.]
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Maybe just a sip would be fine...]
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[England would never sign something like that! Unless he was under a spell or something!
Or maybe if he were very drunk. But if that were the case, his signature would have been much uglier.]
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