The softest look yet crossed Berwald's face. He looked almost fully relaxed at what Tino said. It didn't last long, never did. "I enjoyed it too," he murmured as he tucked his leftovers in the plastic bag and stood up. For a second, he just looked at Tino, trying to decide how best to finish their date. It was only the first and he couldn't bring himself to do much, but he wanted to say goodbye properly. Finally, he pulled the smaller man in for a quick, one-armed hug. "Good bye, Tino."

Though Tino was happy that Berwald enjoyed their date, he was a bit disappointed by the way Berwald said goodbye. He wanted more than a hug! He grabbed the taller man by the arm and stood on his tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Bye Berwald~ Call me soon, ok?" He asked, giving him a smile before heading out, a happy skip in his step.

Berwald froze from the kiss and stood there in the restaurant almost a minute more than he needed to. Oh god, why wouldn't his heart stop racing. It had been too long since someone got so close to him and far longer since he received a kiss. It left him just a little tied up inside. He headed home and was glad to see his house still standing and his son on the couch playing video games.

“Where were you?!” Peter demanded the second he walked in.

“Dun press,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll tell ya later. Ya eat the dinner?” Peter pouted, but Berwald could tell in an instant that he did. “Brought ya dessert. Come on 'n eat a bit before bed.” The kid rushed off to the kitchen and he sighed again. He didn't want to tell Peter he started dating again until he was certain because he couldn't be sure how his son would take it.

Arthur stood in front of his mirror, examining his shirt. He finally had a night off again and he wanted to go have a drink. He already knew where he was going to go to. He wasn't going to go just to see Francis, that was ridiculous, he thought to himself. But then he realized that he was trying to look nice for the man and immediately walked away from the mirror before running his hands through his hair, messing it up. He wasn't going to dress up for that frog. Unless it was for a date, which this was not. With that in mind, he headed out.

Alfred had been trying in vain for over an hour to get Matthew to come to the club with him. He could barely get anything out of him since the last time they had gone. He could tell his brother was depressed about something but the only thing he could get out of him was something about the dancer. So, he was off to do some recon to get answers. And maybe break the guy's nose. He did make his brother cry, after all. Justice would be served! He arrived at the club and took a seat at the bar.

Ivan sat at the bar, already on his second shot of vodka and looking like he'd had far more to drink. He gulped down the shot and buried his face in his hands. One slightly torn up white flower stuck to the bottom of his glass and all the seats around him were conveniently empty, or rather, everyone moved away when he sat down. The memory of earlier still burned in his mind.

'I bought these for you!' he exclaimed as he thrust out a bouquet of white flowers to the dancer who just exited back stage. 'They look like snow, just like you.'

The dancer took them, but only because he didn't have a chance to refuse them and for a second he stared at the flowers, then Ivan. Slowly, his expression changed from one of surprise to a sneer. 'Do I look like a fuckin girl?' With that, he turned and dumped the flowers into a trashcan and stalked right out the door.

Ivan tried. He really tried so hard! That American brat told him to try being nice, so he went out of his way to put on his finest scarf and buy a bouquet of snowy flowers that were just as beautiful as the albino dancer. But as quick as that, all his hopes had been dashed. How could someone not like flowers?

Francis lurked on the far side of the bar, wishing someone else had the shift today. He did not want to deal with all the people that were at his bar right now. If he closed his eyes, would they not be there when he got back? He decided to try that and squeezed his eyes shut.

Alfred came in and noticed that the few seats available were near a very familiar face. Sighing quietly to himself, he went and took a seat. He turned to the bartender, who looked like he was trying to ignore the world, before turning to the man next to him. He could tell that the man was depressed about something. Which was weird since he normally wasn't very good at reading the mood. "Hey... You ok?" he reluctantly asked, wanting to be nice. Because that's what hero's do.

Arthur walked inside and went to the bar. He took a seat near where Francis was and couldn't help but smirk slightly at what he was doing. "You know, frog, if you're trying to be invisible, it isn't working." he told him, his tone a bit amused by the way the other man was acting.

Ivan really was planning on ignoring the voice because he did not want to talk to anyone, but something about it made him raise his eyes. Oh. His violet eyes narrowed slightly and he pointed a finger at the familiar blonde. "It's all your fault!" he whined with a wag of his finger that looked just a little less than sober. He may have just started drinking here, but he had a few sips of vodka before he came as well, just to make sure he could be mellow when confronting the dancer.

Someone startled Francis out of his mental prayer. Jumping slightly, he opened his eyes as his hand flew up to cover his heart. "Arthur?! It's true! My wish has been answered!" he exclaimed. His expression shifting to one of joy, he slid up to the bar again and pointed out a seat. "Come here, sit. I owe you a drink I think! And I was just starting to dread the company at my table."

"What's all my fault?" Alfred asked, completely confused. He had no idea what he did to this guy. Except, you know, punch him in the face and call him a communist. But he deserved the punch for harassing that guy. Though that guy was the same guy he needed to punch next time he saw him, maybe he should have left it alone? He wasn't sure about that.

Arthur took the seat that Francis pointed out to him. "What's wrong with the company at your table?" he asked, looking around. From what he could see, it was the normal type of crowd that you would find at a club. And since Francis has made the choice to work here, he assumed the other man knew what type of people he would be dealing with.

Of course it was all the American's fault. It was...well, he couldn't understand what went wrong, but the idea wasn't Ivan's in the first place. "You told me to try being nice. But even though I did, he just threw the flowers away!" Ivan poured himself another shot and gulped it all down in one shot. It hid his half formed sniffle. Why did people hate him even more when he tried to be nice?! Even the candy and toys he bought before didn't go as planned. Sure his coworkers liked them, but they said for sure it hadn't been from him. Ivan reached for the vodka bottle again.

Leaning farther over so they could have some kind of privacy, Francis jerked his head over to the tall sandy-haired blonde and the shorter one with the golden hair. "Did I mention a fist fight happened here before because of a guy harassing a dancer? That's those two over there and the one guy came in drunk and then he stared at me with these purple eyes and I gave him a whole bottle of vodka even though I shouldn't! Ah, he seriously freaks me out!"

"Who did? The dancer dude? Cause he really isn't worth the effort." Alfred told him, thinking about how he had come home from the club the last time to find Matthew crying. He would never forgive than guy for upsetting his brother to the point of tears. "I'm sure there is someone out there who is right for you. You just got to keep looking." He wasn't sure why he was being so nice to the guy. He supposed it was because of how upset the Russian looked. Yeah, that had to be it.

"If the guy is causing problems, why hasn't he been banned from the club? Arthur asked. That is what happened back in England. If someone was causing to much of a disturbance, they'd be kicked out and banned for a certain amount of time. Though he supposed it might be different here in America. He wouldn't know since he does his best not to cause a disturbance in any of the bars he'd been to.

"Eh?" Ivan stared at the American in confusion. Not worth the effort? What would this guy know about it? He didn't even know the dancer did he?! Ivan's eyes narrowed and he leaned forward to grab the other's shirt front, though in a far less aggressive way than usual. "What do you know about the little bunny! Spill all your secrets!" he demanded.

Francis shrugged one shoulder. He didn't really want to talk about work when with Arthur, even if he had a hard time not thinking about it right now. "He's not causing trouble right now, I don't think," he said with a quick glance over. "He just gives me the chills. Don't some people do that to you?"

"Your 'little bunny' made my little brother cry. That is all the reason I need to hate him." Alfred stated, his voice turning slightly cold and angry. He didn't even react when the Russian grabbed his shirt. He hadn't even noticed it. He was to focused on this conversation. Though if the other tried something, he would react as necessary.

"A lot of people, actually. But with my job, that is to be expected." Arthur told him. Normally when someone gave him the chills, he knew to be wary around them. It normally helped. Other times it is when people who were older than him tried to flirt with him. But he was going to keep that part to himself.

Ivan gasped. "The devious little bunny! He told me he didn't go home with anyone but he got close enough to make another cry?!" he exclaimed, clearly taking the relationship because the little brother and the dancer quite wrong. Rather, Ivan felt like he'd been cheated on despite the fact neither of them were in any sort of relationship. He dropped his head into his hands again. "What did he do right that I did wrong?!"

Francis nodded his head, understanding. Certainly with Arthur's job, he would run into a lot of creeps, but then, so did Francis. In fact, his loose ways tended to attract a few, though he knew others who drew creeps in far worse than him. "Maybe it's this bar. It's such an open weird place and I love that, but some people here have no idea the difference between letting go and letting it all go."

"They didn't go home together! I don't know what happened, but all I know it's that Matthew went home in tears because of that man." Alfred stated, still angry. This conversation was making his anger worse. He didn't even have to think about the answer to the other's question. "It's probably because he doesn't try to force himself on someone." He explained.

"Not everybody does know the difference. And I'm not talking about just here at the bar." Arthur said in agreement. He's met to many people like that in the past. Those type of people typically tried to take a shot at him. And getting shot wasn't something he enjoyed. It hurt more than anything he's ever experienced before and it will probably happen again at some point.

Ivan frowned. "Quit making it my fault he doesn't like me! I tried really hard!" He even tried like the American said and it still didn't work. He huffed, but felt better that the dancer also didn't go home with another. It meant Ivan might still have a chance. But the American said he should give up. Would that be smart? But Ivan didn't know if he could find anyone else to like and certainly not anyone else to like him back. It really was hopeless. "Maybe you should ask the dancer why he made your brother cry."

Francis eyed Arthur for a second. That answer made him wander just what sort of stories Arthur kept hidden inside of him. Just what sort of people did he come across like this? "Well..." Francis said after a long pause. "I don't want to ruin your mood with this kind of talk. You sounded quite cheerful when you walked in. I hope you were looking forward to seeing me!"

"Oh I'm going to. And he better have a damn good reason too." Alfred stated. It didn't really matter what the dancer's answer was. He was going to get punched. Though how hard did depend on his answer. He glanced around the club, but couldn't see the man anywhere. That was fine. He had plenty of time to wait; he was in no hurry.

Arthur scoffed at what Francis said. "In your dreams, frog." he told him, looking away. Though his cheeks turned a light red without his knowledge, embarrassed on being called out on it. His pride wouldn't allow him to admit that yes, he had wanted to see the Frenchman. It has been a few days since they'd last seen each other due to his work schedule.

"Can I help ask?" Ivan question, his voice sounding somewhat cheerful at the idea. He really wanted to know about the dancer for his sake, but he was just into enough vodka to want to know for someone else's sake as well. He reached for the bottle and forewent the shot glass for just drinking straight out of the bottle. "Ah...but I want to finish my drink first...."

Francis grinned. Then he must be dreaming, though he felt like that most days with Arthur around. The man couldn't lie worth shit. He wanted to see Francis too. Pointing out to the drink he'd brought him, Francis smiled. "Will you be needing another soon so I can pretend to be doing my job?"

"Why would you want to help me?" Alfred asked, confused by that. He really didn't need the other guy's help in asking a question. And he was sure that if he punched the dancer, the Russian might react and he really didn't want to get thrown out of here again. This was a nice club and he enjoyed coming here.

"Go see to the other customers, frog. I'll let you know when I need another." Arthur told him, taking a drink from the glass. As much as he wanted to have Francis's attention all to himself, he was sure the man would get in trouble if he only focused on one customer like he had the night they met.

"Because I had my heart broken as well, of course!" Ivan exclaimed. "And he will answer when I ask a question." With that statement, a bright smile flashed over his face, a bit to bright to be entirely pleasant. Did Ivan plan to threaten the dancer for an explanation? Possibly. He was feeling much less depressed now and far more in a revenge mindset. He also thought it would be fun to play this game with the American, though he couldn't be sure why.

Nodding once, Francis offered one more brief smile before he slipped away. He had a job to do after all. Maybe later, he could have Arthur all to himself, but sadly not now. "I'll be back in a bit." He got a few drinks and stopped for a bit, talking to the customers, a particularly sad looking young guy caught his attention and he paused, offering a smile and an ear to listen, the entire time with the most understanding expression.

Gilbert cracked the back door open and peered around the club. He'd been hiding outside on an extended smoke break and since he didn't see the Russian still lurking around, he dashed inside to get changed and the hell out of there. He was so over with this day! Now if he could just not get caught by someone who wanted his attention.

"Do whatever you want, dude." Alfred told him. He was sure that the Russian was going to do whatever he wanted regardless of what he said. So he wasn't going to worry about him. He looked around the club again and noticed the dancer in question was heading for the exit. He got out of his seat and went over to him, making sure he didn't notice, and grabbed him by the arm. "Hey. I have a bone to pick with you." he said, his voice cold.

Arthur watched Francis move around the bar, sipping at his drink. The other man seemed so at ease when working that it was nice to watch. It definitely was a change of pace from his own job. Things were always so hectic at the station. So it was always nice when he had the time to sit down and relax like this.

Gilbert jumped far more than he'd ever admit as someone grabbed his arm. When he turned though, it wasn't the Russian he went out of his way to avoid. Blonde hair, glasses, vivid eyes--the sight sent flashes of recognition through him. "Ah!" Gilbert exclaimed, a brief look of excitement taking over his face. He snapped his fingers as he tried to pull a name out of his head, the one Francis told him in parting. He didn't want to hear it at the time, but he ended up committing it to memory anyway. "...Mattie! Right?" But when he looked closer, he realized the person in front of him wasn't the kid he drank with before. Gilbert's face fell. "No you're not." Without a word more, he pulled away and walked off again.

Ivan came up behind the American, still smiling. "You are not doing very well at this," he observed in a mild voice. "Shall I help?" Not waiting for a reply, he trailed after the dancer.

When Francis listened to someone, he really listened and he stood close enough to Arthur for the man to hear this serious side. "I'm sorry to hear that, sir. Don't let him push you down like that. You're worth so much more than that." He patted the kid's hand and left him a smile before wandering back over to Arthur. "Are you good here?"

"I don't need your help." Alfred stated, his eyes glaring at the albino. He went after him again and grabbed him before spinning him around and punching him in the nose. He didn't care if he got thrown out anymore. He was beyond angry at the guy for looking so happy about talking about the guy he had made cry. And he wasn't sure how he learned Matthew's name, but he didn't like it.

Arthur was impressed by how he handle talking to the upset customer. Though he didn't let it show on his face. Well, if it didn't show, he didn't notice. "Pint of ale" he ordered, ready for another drink as he set his empty glass aside. He was going to stick something simple tonight. He didn't want to get drunk again; he could only barely remembered what had happened that night and forgetting things after drinking was something he hated about it. Yet he kept coming back, over and over again.

Gilbert yelped and missed the fist that came at him too fast. Blood burst from his nose and he pressed a hand over it, backpedaling a few steps. "What? Why?!" His voice came out nasally, but clearly confused. He thought he knew this person and he wouldn't admit to being happy over it, but he had no intentions of talking to someone he didn't know. This person who looked like Mattie seemed to know him though. Glancing over, he saw the Russian with a giant smile behind this other blonde kid, looking like he was having too much fun. "You're with him?!" Gilbert took another step back, his eyes wide. "Just leave me alone okay!"

"But he has a question for you," Ivan hummed. He really was having fun watching this.

Francis nodded, not quite understanding the look on Arthur's face. He acted like this at his job so often that he fell into the natural goal. He would drop into conversation for an hour or interrupt someone just to give them advice. Were they planning a fail proposal, or falling out of love. Either way he would listen without prejudice. Very little would make him unable to understand another. After fetching the ale, he paused to talk with Arthur. "You really are so British," he grinned.

"You made my brother cry. I want to know why." Alfred stated, his voice and eyes cold as he watched the man. He had to admit, it felt good to punch the guy and he was fully prepared to punch him again. So the guy better think carefully about his answer. Or he wasn't going to walk away from this little conversation without a few more punches at least.

"Of course." Arthur stated, slightly offended that the other would think otherwise. "I have to stay true to my roots don't I? Otherwise who would I be?" he asked this rhetorically. He felt it was important to stay true to who you were as a person. People who did could be some of the best people to be around. Or one of the worst. Depending on what type of person they really were.

"Huh?" These people were crowding in on him and so angry. Gilbert could hardly understand why and he was feeling persecuted. What did he do wrong? "Made your brother cry? I don't even know...wait, the Mattie guy?" Gilbert paused, his expression changing a little with recognition. He made that kid cry? "H-he's the one that left in the middle of the conversation! I was just...he...why does it have to be my fault!?" He felt bad that he made the guy cry, but he'd been hurting too. Why did no one take that into account?

"Then why did you throw my flowers away?!" Ivan demanded.

Gilbert just stared at him, like that was the dumbest question ever. "Because I want to be alone okay!" They should both just accept this and get over it. He didn't need people no matter how much he sometimes wanted them.

Francis had to laugh at such a simple response. He liked it though and that Arthur was so proud of himself, even if Francis found it hard to be proud of England of all places. "Do I come off as very French then?" he asked. "I'm curious." Although he could feel tension in the club like a sixth sense, he tried to avoid it in lieu of chatting with Arthur.