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"Ve? If it's inspired by my cooking then it must be good. Also it's fun to try knew things!" he said cheerfully grabbing the fork. Italy couldn't say no to good food, really.

"Ciao!" The Italian smiled at the platinum blonde. "Iceland? Oh you must be one of the Nordics! Ve! It's nice to finally greet each other face to face, no?"

He took a bite of the cuisine "Delizioso!" he cried.

Arthur did what he could to not roll his eyes with Landon present. Last thing he wanted right now was to be talked back to. Once gone he withheld a long sigh just before turning his attentions to his partner. By now, it was a given that he only smoked when stressed. Was dealing with just one or two states really driving him off the edge? Surely after years of dealing with 50 states plus some other American territories, he had already learn to not such things bother him.

"Are you alright?" he asked with concern. Although it was a given that he was not at the moment, still it showed that the Brit cared even if it was rare to publicly show it. "He really wasn't worth the energy to get upset over, even if he was being sarcastic."

"What is truly bothering you? Your states? If anything most of them show more respect for you than they do me."

I have rules in my territories:
*Follow my orders
*Call me -sama
*Don't complain about my food

"We could always perform something we've done from our to Baltica International Folklore Festival to attract attention to our booths or we could venture out, learn about other cultures and gradually invite them to our tables." Toris suggested. The Baltica International Folklore Festival is something that each of the of the Baltics host each year.

It seemed that the two were merely passing acquaintances, so Romero's introduction had not gone wasted. The Venezuelan beamed proudly when Feliciano tasted the pasticho and found it to his delight.

"Gracias!" he said. " I'm glad you liked it, because I wasn't completely sure if it would taste right. There can be no higher praise than from the original pasta maker! And as I had mentioned already, the dish Feli just sampled is pasticho, a sort of South American lasagna. We use many of the same noodles and cheeses as the Italians do in their lasagna, but our cheeses more closely resemble what the estadounidenses call Mexican blend, and our meat is seasoned before being cooked in." Romero produced another fork by removing it from the hand propped under his plate. "Quieres probarlo?"

"Ah, sí! Before I forget, have you two brought any traditional dances or non-food items as well?" he asked. He thought he caught a glint of a sword in Emil's hand, but only for a moment; and then it was out of sight under his coat. "Emil, was that your sword earlier?" he asked, with interest. As an old campaigner, Romero was rather interested in the weaponry wielded by other countries.

"I brought my old saber too, if you'd like to see it," he added, just in case the Icelander was likewise intrigued.

Not too far off, Romero spotted Chesa, standing very much alone at her booth. He decided to invite her over and help relieve her boredom. "Hola, Chesa!" he called, waving at her. "What have you brought?"

Chesa ended up coming in a little late, having slept in after a long night of cooking. But she had to make sure everything was made just right. In the end, she had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning, and had only woken up in time for the festival after a combination of Abo hitting her and a big cup of coffee... with a few herbs and spices mixed in for extra wake-up call.

Dressed as a singkil fan dancer, Chesa looked around as she headed to her stall; everyone had brought their own little flair to the festival, that was for sure. She managed an awkward little wave at Antonio and Luz Maria when she passed them, getting to her stall without spilling all the things she had brought, which was mostly food and decorations. She set up a small boombox, the more traditional music of Grace Nono coming quietly from the speakers as she got the food out: mangoes, bananas, papayas, adobong manok, puto, tahô, and some balut, for those who were feeling brave... She hung up a small Philippine flag as a decoration.

Alfred let the smoke drift lazily from his lips as he looked at Arthur relaxing agenst the back of his booth some.
"When a state with big revanew like Cali gets disagreeable, it gives me a head ach, or a migraine in his case. But it wasn't too bad this time."
He sighed a bit.
"Why can't more of them be like Tennessee and Carolina? Yah he calls you names but all in all he's a good boy."
What was really bothering him? It wasn't something to talk about in public but no one else was paying attention. But he spoke quietly non the less.
"Arthur... I've been thinking."
He paused taking another drag from his cigaret.
"What are we gona do... ya know about my states and... us?"
Most of his states disliked and some even out right hatted Arthur. How would they feel about the two going out? Would they try and stop them or keep them apart? Would some thretn to susid? Would any accept it? Carolina might, she was one of the calmer and more layed back of the states... a lot of the south was. Thinking of all the consequences he now wanted to keep it secret for as long as posable.

The Venezuelan had forgotten to translate himself again, and it seemed that Emil was unused to the Spanish language. So Romero repeated his last question in English. "Apologies. I asked if you wanted some pasticho." When the Icelander nodded again, he passed over the plate and fork.

The Venezuelan was impressed with the teal glow of his companion's sword. Never had he seen a blade glow like that. "Qué chévere! You, my friend, have the handsomest blade I have seen. What a shine! As for mine," he added, drawing his own worn saber, "it was given to me by General Bolivar, after I helped rescue him from the imperialists long ago. Bolivar's own blacksmith forged this, and I have used it often in days past, so it is not in as good a condition as yours."

Romero's steel blade, plated with gold on the intricately molded hilt, gleamed likewise as he withdrew it and held it poised diagonally in front of him as if for protection from remembered foes.

"Oh...right. Sorry. I'll play it, then, don't worry. How about you sing?" He reached to get the bow back so he could start playing.