Northern Italy had lost his sister. It wasn't exactly an uncommon thing; he had gotten distracted after all. Still, he knew she would find her way to the correct building for the meeting, so he wasn't exactly worried. She was out of mafia territory, so she would be alright, as long as she didn't piss off any of the countries at the meeting, that is. He loved her dearly, but her short temper always put a strain on him. After all, he generally liked all the countries she tended to blow up at, and that put a damper on their conversations with him.

The Italian let out a small sigh, his breath visible in the cooler air as he checked his watch. They were late. He knew he was going to cut it close when he ventured off on this plan that distracted him so, but he felt it would be good for all parties involved, especially the one that stood beside him, the borrowed navy blue hoodie pulled tightly over his head that only the cold-nipped tip of his nose was visible. 

"We're almost there, now," North Italy murmured to his companion, wrapping his fingers gently, but firmly around the slightly shorter man's arm and led him down the street towards the large, historical looking building. He could feel the other man tense tighter than a guitar string as they drew closer to the building, and his movements became jerky as the warm air of the structure greeted them as they entered. "Va bene," North Italy tried soothing his fidgeting friend, choosing to ignore how the other kept his hood up (it was rude to keep headware on in a building), knowing that if it made the poor man feel any better, he would let it slide. 

Despite the other's reluctance, North Italy did not regret convincing (or rather dragged) the man out of the comfort of his home. He needed more socializing, to open up to people, as it wasn't healthy for him to remain locked up and alone in his houes for days on end, only going out to buy food. North Italy worried about him disappearing one day and no one would ever know, much like how he worried of South Italy being captured and tortured by the crime lords that ruled over the gutterworks of the country. Too much worrying would be bad for his complexion, so helping his friend help take care of himself would do both of them a whole lot of good.

The Italian stopped short of the room where the meeting was being held, his head tilting to the side as loud voices, muffled only slightly by the door, reverberated into the hallway. "Buon Dio, they've already started. They sound lively today, at least." He smiled at his own little joke, keeping a hold of his companion as he made an attempt to inch away and back towards the exit. 

North Italy was distracted from his companion as his honey colored eyes trailed to another person leaning against the wall beside the door, a smile crossing his face at the sight. "Spanga! I did not know you would be here! What are you doing lurking about and not enjoying the company of our friends?" 

The woman barely scrapping up five feet in height turned her bright eyes to the Italian, a smirk crossing her face. "I'm reveling in the sounds of chaos," she said with all seriousness in her tone, but her grin and glinting gaze betrayed her amusement of it all. When her attention was drawn to North Italy's friend, her smirk widened. "Awww, did North pick up a stay perrito?" she cooed, bringing her hands up to her cheeks and making a face of endearment. "Are you going in to show him off to all the head honchos and hooligans?" 

Northern Italy smiled, ruffling the Spaniard's hair with a free hand as he moved closer to the door, shaking his head at her squawk of indignation at the sign of affection and ignoring her swat at the offending appendage. "I don't think Vati will be able to stand in there for very long with all that attention. He'll sit in the corner until things blow over, si?" 
Not waiting for a reply for his rhetorical question, the Italian knocked his knuckles against the door before cracking it open to stick his head in, just in time to see America plop back down in his seat in a rightful fit, and Germany asking if there were anything else to discuss. "Oh, you already finished the yelling part? That means the meeting's already two-thirds over! I need to stop being distracted and wandering off to strange places." North Italy smiled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

There was a sudden yelp behind him, and Northern Italy found himself being shoved against the door and staggering into the room as his companion panicked and surged forward. A cackle determined that he had been startled by Spain, and judging by the way she was flexing her fingers in a menacing waving manner, she had successfully slipped her ice cold fingers under the other man's hoodie. 

"It's okay, Vati, she's just being a dork," North Italy tried to console the other man, but his fellow Italian was too busy using North's body as a shield, his charcoal eyes now visible from under the hoodie, looking downright terrified as he hid behind Northern Italy. 

"Oh, ciao sorella!" And there goes Northern Italy, distracted once more as he waved to Southern Italy, beaming. "Look who I found!" He patted the hooded Italian with a gloved hand, grinning from ear to ear as if he had personally won a match of football. 

"Sí, sí, you brought the perrito with you," Spain rolled her eyes as she made her way over to the table, scanning over the occupants before flopping herself down right next to Russia, kicking her feet up onto the table. "He's very cute, but doesn't look potty-trained and would probably hide under the bed during thunderstorms. And hola to you, Giant." She tilted her head back to grin at the very giant nation beside her. "How is the weather up there in Tall-Person-Town? From the sounds of it, there must be some horrendous thunderstorms rolling in." She glanced over at America. "Better get an umbrella and head to the bar and down a few pints. Or liters. Really, you can't beat the living hell out of each other when you're so plastered you can't walk. I'm pretty sure Portugal there will trade you something, but don't get anything from the English or the Americans, because the English are cheats and the Americans are cheap. See? Problem solved. Can we go get drunk and be friends again until we sober up?"