Northern Italy visibly drooped when Iceland figuratively slapped his hand away, stating he did not want to others to draw the wrong conclusions. It was true, though, if one country aided, and Iceland accepted, the enemy of that aiding country would have their feathers ruffled. Why did everything have to be so complicated? There could be a disaster equal to that of Pompeii, yet the island nation would not take any help from anyone. He would choose to bear the brunt of the suffering alone rather than allowing aid and risking unconsciously siding in a dispute? It was... well, disheartening for North. Maybe he could smuggle some help in anyway? No, that would make Iceland angry if he ever found out. He didn't like seeing his friends get hurt.
Italy blinked as the door open, drawing his attention to the presence of France. The Italian's sad demeanor broke as a friendly smile spread across his face at the sight of another friend, waving at the Frenchman from his seat at the table. "You should lay off on England for a bit," Italy said, still smiling. "She's scary when she gets angry." Really, Italy may be easily distracted, but even he noticed how this meeting seemed to be a 'let's pick on England' day. He didn't want anyone to blow a gasket and start a huge, loud argument again. He didn't want to witness his friends fighting, not when they just calmed down from one previously.
North jumped when Denmark turned her attention onto him, feeling Vatican cringe when she mentioned him as well. He blinked for a moment, as if suddenly realizing he was in the middle of a meeting and that he was supposed to say something about things in his own home. "Well," the Italian said slowly, his gaze drifting to Spain. "Espagna and I have discussed a few problems that have effected both of us. Our economies tend to be driven by the influx of tourists, and with international travel on the downward slide, we are starting to feel the pressure."
"Also," Spain added, now rocking back and forth on the back legs of her chair by pushing her heels against the chair. "Our local sea levels have seen a rise. Yo no sé if the sea themselves are on the rise globally or just the local area, but it's un problema."
"Sì, our ports and beaches are are risk of being swamped," Italy finished sadly. All those people who would lose their homes and jobs if it continues...
"On another note," Spain said, her grin widening as she turned her attention to America. "The cliffs of Cumbre Vieja are still up in the Canaries, so there will be no mega tsunamis to wipe your entire eastern seaboard off the map. Other than that, nothing else to report from me." Oh, how that was one little tricky business right there. It wasn't really spoken much about, but on one of the Canary Islands was a volcano, of which the eastern seaside of it was very unstable, and its collapse of several billion tonnes of rock would simply slide right off and plunge into the ocean, which in predictions would cause a wave up to 300 feet high and would clobber places like England, Brazil, and, to the most damage, the entire east coast of North America. It would be sad indeed to one day wake up and have the entire state of Florida and the entirety of New York City be gone. All those silly natural disaster movies involving the famous city were utterly wrong. There wouldn't be a city left to fix up. After all, the island was just a gravel pit with no natural bedrock, and Florida was mostly sand and limestone, all of which were either very water soluble or easily erodible.
Although, Spain mused to herself, how much of this did America even understand in that pea-sized, one tracked mind of his? And how much would she get blamed if it ever happened? What, she couldn't just evaporate billion tonnes of rock off the face of the Earth, that would be plain ol' silly. Besides, America could use a reality check, even if he did have a ticking time bomb under...what was it called? Goldenstone? Yellow Hoe? Whatever, it was a giant ass volcano, and it would suck if anything happened to it. Oh, the wonders of natural disasters that none of them could do to fix... And they were sitting here trying not to wring each other's necks because they couldn't sit still for five minutes and have a drink or two to relax.
"The people are worried." A soft, light accented voice rose as a whisper from the pause after Spain. Northern Italy nearly fell out of his chair, which caused Spain to choke on laughter. A pair of charcoal gray eyes peered out from under the blue hoodie that Vatican wore, the little of his face that was visible was pale and drawn into an anxious, nervous frown. The man shifted again, his eyes trailing back to the table. "T-they are starting to sense the tensions between the countries, the coldness...they fear another conflict brewing again...but...many are tired..." He mumbled something else inaudible, most likely under the lines of an apology of interrupting their meeting as he slid lower in his head, his thin fingers wrapping around the edge of his hood to pull it down low over his face again to obstruct his view of everyone else. Northern Italy patted his back in reassurance, a smile on his face, but Vatican was too busy hiding from everyone else to notice. Leave it up to Vati to pick up such things from his occasional trip to the markets. The Italian people would want to be financially sound before deciding to dig their claws into wars again, but they weren't much for fighting anyway, preferring the peace over strife.They would, if they had to, but they would rather sit back and enjoy the sun and good food with even better friends. But with their economy on the rocks... even a little scuffle would send them off into a worrying panic.
"Sì, I believe that is is from us, unless South has anything to say." He smiled over Vati's head at his sister, wondering if she had anything to add.