“Are you a woman, England?” Spain says, barely able to hide the amusement trembling in his voice.

England frowns. “I should hope not; if so, I’ve been grossly misinformed.”


I hate to admit it: I guffawed.


England reminds me eerily of one of my best friends, who's a grumpy English academic who snarks his way through human interaction but really is a complete and utter softie underneath the cantankerous exterior. For some reason, I had to pause when he called the now-christened Rosita "lass." There's something very old-fashioned and careful and yet utterly endearing about his careful address.

I can't wait to see more of this, especially on how he and Spain negotiate their ways through the situation.