[center][color=662d91][i][h1]Movie Theater[/h1][/i][/color][/center]

Smoke was wafted up like a gentle silver ribbon as Osmani lit her pipe once more, handing the box of matches and bag of tobacco back to Armenia, as she permitted Austria to state her case. A faint smirk crept onto her face, as she caught the sly jab at her. Outdated, ha! How amusing. Osmani simply shut her eyes and shook her head slightly, smiling all the way as she listened to the rest of Austria's spiel, arms crossed ever so defiantly. 

"Bosnia," she spoke, opening one eye and looking up at Austria. "Tell me, how has my old boy been? You've been treating him well I hope." It had been long since her favorite guest was in her home. The good little boy who took to becoming a proper civilized man; not like the violent, barbaric lot who haunted the Balkans these days. "I can't help but think he'd be happier in a nice Muslim home, but I suppose better you than Serbia." 

She took another sip of her coffee

"We can at least both agree he is a bad influence."

Then came the Teutonic Thundering

Germany, now this was an interesting young nation. Osmani couldn't help but recognize the fire that Austria once held in their peak years, back when they fought each other for Vienna so long ago. It might be good to fight alongside that Germanic fury instead of against it for once.

But before the snide Turk could get a word in, she found a few good inches of sharp steel at her neck. As her eyes locked onto those of the mad girl before her, the coffee cup that was tossed from her hand shattered on the ground; the shrill noise serving as a backdrop to Erika's sudden change in disposition.

Osmani followed along, taking in her words. At the mention of Russia, the Turk narrowed her eyes and began to seethe.

That Slavonic Bitch's name only served to make Osmani froth at the mouth. 11 times they had fought, and all but once she had lost. Russia seemed to enjoy humiliating her. Not a day went by that she didn't fantasize about tearing her apart limb by limb, setting fire to her house, releasing her cousins, and bringing every last square inch of land that frigid drunk whore had stolen from her back into her possession. The murderous fantasies were drawing Osmani out of reality as she simply stood there in a trance. Erika would likely not realize this trance, but Austria certainly would, she would know that look of bloodlust very well.

That was until Germany started reaching for her nether regions.

Snapping back in defense, she quickly returned the handshake.

"Affedersin, Almanya. You're right, this is about more than just Serbia, more than the Balkans." She smiled as her grip tightened, "It's about dragging that Polar Cunt down a few pegs. No, more than a few, dragging her all the way down. Making her realize how truly worthless and weak she is." Osmani began to froth at the mouth again, as the dialog became more obviously personal and about her own shame, "It's easy to just toss your weight around, but what can one snowflake tsarina do against 3 great powers at once!"

The fires of vengeance were clearly burning in Osmani's eyes as she pictured crushing Russia over and over again in her head, breaking down and reversing all 11 of the Russo-Turkish Wars in one fell swoop. Armenia stood some distance away, clearly concerned as he tried to stay out of his mistress's field of view. 

"Erika, I will do more than just take hold of her lower regions; I'll tear them off and watch her squeal in agony." 

Serbia, Russia, and Britain all in one war. With Austria and Germany at her side, there was no way she could lose this. The only way this could be any better was if she had the chance to personally decapitate Greece in this war.

Then the blood lust was interrupted by a nasty and painful sounding cough, as Osmani jerked her hand away from Erika to pull out a handkerchief. The loud hacking was becoming more common lately, and more painful. Osmani just wasn't the nation she was a long time ago.