"Well, well," England muttered, his eyes fixing on the newest arrival. Her tight-lipped from twisted into a sarcastic smile as she cocked her head slightly to the side. "Look who finally managed to make an appearance? Tell me, were you pissing on the bushes outside or just flirting?" She hated France. Beyond the typical indifference or minor annoyance, France was probably the one nation that she hated more than any other. Years of war had meant the two, or at least England, were spiteful of the other. "If you must know, I've been trying to hold my bite in. But now that you're here, it's clear nothing will get done so I suppose I can stop restraining myself." She leaned back slightly in her own chair, her hand coming to rest on the cane sitting nearby. She did not actually need it to walk. No, nothing of that sort. She kept it there to smack around other people until they fell into line. It was a weapon of the best kind; the kind that was legal to carry on airplanes. But she turned to Denmark and waved a hand idly. "Nothing from me. Or, at least nothing you all wouldn't already from the news."