Spain had a nice long siesta while on the trip over to Germany's place, comfortably sprawled across two laps. She did wake up before they could do something horribly stupid and find themselves missing parts of their bodies, though, which they should really be thankful for. After exiting the train it was a mere hop, skip, and a jump to Germany's house, where they broke- no, let- themselves in. When was the last time she stepped foot in the German's house? Oh Dios, she couldn't remember. It looked a bit different, but it was still nice. Maybe it was cleaner? Or was it the furniture had been rearranged?

Ah, to hell with it all, she had to get something to drink before the other two stole it all! 

The short Spaniard had settled herself down with a small horde of bottles claiming them as part of her territory and she would viciously defend if the other two tried sneaking one away from her. Her alcohol tolerance seemed to have leveled up since the last time she had gone binge drinking, so she found out as she peered down into the empty beer in her hand, plenty more already lined up neatly on the floor beside her feet, and she only just feeling the tingling of her senses. Damn it, she would have to go cold turkey sometime just so she could enjoy getting utterly wasted again with fewer drinks. Huffing out a small sigh and hiding a pout, Spain set the empty bottle down with the others on the floor, her green eyes flickering up to her two companions. It seemed that France had found something a bit more than beer and was well on his way of having a massive hangover in the morning. 

It suddenly dawned on her that France was looking- no, staring- at her with a look that she had seen previously on the man while watching rather beautiful blondes and brunettes in flashy, fancy dresses. It was on par of the same deeply determined look of a starved dog staring down a piece of meat just out of reach. Spain knew exactly what was going on through that flashy idiot's head. 

"No," she said sharply, raising a finger at the Frenchman. "Don't you even think about it, borracho francés." She gave him a look of her own, which if he was sober enough would tell him that under no circumstances he was to even get near her. Otherwise he was going to end up getting a face-full of fist.