France said a few things on similar lines to what Spain and Northern Italy spoke of, and then the meeting was over by the way Denmark dismissed them. Spain grinned as she let her chair crashed down on all fours. "Well, that means I'm out! Drinking time! See you later, Giant." She patted Russia on the arm, removed her feet off the table and stood in one swift motion before practically barreling out the door, only slowing to ruffle South Italy's hair, pull Vatican's hood down to reveal his shock of charcoal hair sticking up all over the place now due to the static of the motion, waved to Portugal, and to pucker her lips out like a fish at France. She'll get the Frenchie later, possibly with a snowball, or if there was no snow, a mudball. Oh, he'd probably get his panties in a twist over that. 

She zoomed passed Germany as she went running out of the room, giving him a good-hearted slap somewhere in his lower back region for good measure. She didn't really have anything against Germany, he was kind of too serious and no humor, but he was alright, she supposed. Nevertheless she ran passed him and out the door, hitting cold air. She hopped down a few steps before spotted a familiar head of bright white hair. 

"Prus!" That was all the warning she was going to give him before she went barreling into him, wrapping her arms around his waist in a back-cracking hug. Oh Dios, it had been awhile since she last saw him! She needed her weekly dose of Prussia! It must be the hair, or his attitude, or how she, Prussia, and France sometimes went out, got utterly wasted, and did crazy shenanigans that they found laughing hysterically at later on the Internet. Anyway, she barely could stand still now that she had people to drive others up the wall with. 

Northern Italy let out a small, sad sigh, giving her sister a sympathetic look. She looked so eager to speak up previously too. He reached up to fix her hair instead in a sort of an apology after Spain messed it all up, but only got a few strands done before being distracted again as America's words made him sad. He didn't want people depressed! Even Germany looked like he could use a hug... 

"Can you watch Vati for a bit?" he whispered to South before getting up without waiting for a reply. He drifted over to the other side of the table, patting America on the shoulder. "You can come to my place anytime if you wish, America. My doors are open to anyone and everyone." He smiled at the younger nation. Of course the discussion of where to hold the next meeting went over his head, misinterpreting everything as America being sullen. 

"Oh! France! You look magnifico!" And he just jumped onto a new train of thought again, the Italian smiling happily at the Frenchman. "Your footwear look spectacular for the weather! I think I stepped into a mud puddle on the way in." He looked down at his leather shoes with a slight pout on his lips. Oh, how he missed that sly little bit of water! 

"Let's not fret over this any longer, though! Are any of you going to get drinks now? Spain must be there and down a few already! Oh! Maybe I can catch up to Germany and see if he wants to join! North straightened his emerald and gold scarf as he scurried to the door, disappearing as he was distracted, yet again, by the thought of catching up to Germany. 

At the seat where North Italy abandoned, Vatican turned his lost look to Southern Italy, his eyes pleading to her that she wouldn't go off and abandon him too to these unknown and frightening people.