Spain grinned up at France and Prussia as they both stated that they would not mind being used as a pillow for her siesta. Siestas were very important, after all. Plus, she hadn't gotten much sleep the night before either due to a "Surprise! Here's paperwork that should've been done three weeks ago but we lost it and now you got to pull an all-nighter!" situation that was pulled on her by her boss. She was pretty sure she was still running on all those energy drinks she inhaled. Dios, paperwork was boring. She was still functioning normally because of her natural high amounts of energy that the energy drinks seemed to have fueled to unbelievable proportions. They were so lucky that they didn't see her after the first three cans that she guzzled under an hour. The Spaniard winced mentally at the thought of going back to her not-so-slightly trashed house. And people say she was a disaster when drunk...
France pointed out Prussia's thinner appearance, which of course drew her attention to their albino friend. This, of course, Prussia naturally deflected by pointed out the station and started walking ahead of them. Spain glanced up at France, giving him a knowing look before shrugging. "I'll scrounge up something," she promised before bounding away after Prussia, widening her strides as well as speeding up in order to catch up to the man. Maybe she could box up some churros and send them over to Prussia to eat? Or steal some of Vatican's excess baked goods? Anything was better than nothing, but he wasn't at Vatican-level negligence yet, so she wasn't going to push the taller man for answers. He would open up when he wanted to, and she won't shove her face all up in his business unless his habits became too unhealthy.
Vatican chewed slowly on his bit of ravioli, trying to clear his mind as he ate. The others had all left, so he let himself calm down, his shoulder slumping slightly as they relaxed. He blinked up at Southern Italy as she spoke, leaning back slightly at the fork waggling at him. She was nagging him about his eating habits- again. He sighed softly. "I just don't get hungry often," he murmured, turning his gaze down as he poked another piece of ravioli with his fork. "But... thank you for the offer. I don't want to be a bother... you do so much already..." He didn't need her to take care of him while she had other, very important jobs to do. He was just a small city-state, a micronation, whatever you'd wish to call it. He was tiny and insignificant compared to North or South Italy, and he didn't want either of them to just drop whatever they were doing just to cater to him.
The charcoal-haired Italian lifted his eyes again as South asked his opinion on what she should do with the other countries. He lowered his fork slowly, his eyes downcast as he thought. "I would think...they would start to worry if you were sick...if you started to be nice all of a sudden." South was as caustic as battery acid most of the time, but she did have a soft, gentle side under the sharpened demeanor. But very few ever saw the softer side to the Southern Italian, and it would only being suspicion onto her for her sudden change in disposition. "I-I do not mean you should pick fights with them at every opportunity or that you couldn't be nice to them, it's just, I mean..." He blew out a short huff in frustration, trying to figure out how exactly to word it. He could never really express himself. "Just... be yourself?" He lifted his eyes to her, his shoulders tense again as if expecting for her to blow up at him.
Northern Italy patted Germany's arm, smiling. "I got invited to your house, and I will make you food, so there is no debt to be paid." Silly Germany trying to repay him for things he did naturally. Italy always had to feed people, or make sure they had food, both when he's a guest and a host. Food made people happy. It made him happy, so it should make other people happy based on his simple logic. It all made sense to him.
Italy noticed he had started to lag behind, so he sped up a bit, almost doing a slow jog beside the long strides of the German beside him. "Me, myself?" he asked, blinking at Germany after his question. "I've been well, I suppose. My sorella and I have disagreements, but I try to make her happy and safe, but she's always getting into the Mafia mess, and I fear she'll get seriously hurt if she keeps it up." It was the one reason why he convinced her to come here for this meeting, to keep her at his relative side to keep her safe. She was older than he, only by a little bit, but he felt the need to be her protective brother. "And then there's Vati, who barely stands being in the same room as anyone new. I was glad he didn't have a meltdown in the meeting, but I just had to get him out so he could at least try to make friends."
Italy's depressing thoughts were interrupted with Germany pointing out the station, and then mentioning the ingredients for lasagna. "Oh! You can put all sorts of things into lasagna!" he said cheerfully, his previous saddened frown at family problems erased by the joy of food. "You can put all sorts of cheeses in it, and meats- do you mind if I use some of your sausage thingies?- and then there's all sort of vegetables-" He went on with a long list of all sorts of things one could put into a lasagna, and then all the different sized dishes, and how a glass dish was better than metal and the proper temperature and time to cook it under. He continued to rattle on as he unconsciously kept up his speed to keep alongside Germany as they headed to the station, as he already forgot where they were anyway as he was too deep in the discussion of proper lasagna etiquette.