Noxious [DenNor]

14.

A fine mist rained from the silver heavens above, casting what was already a morose road-trip in a misty, dreamlike gloom. Mathias wasn't sure he had ever seen anybody grip their steering wheel as tight as Lukas did at that moment. In fact, even as he watched, the color in his knuckles seemed to fade and drain into a bleached bone white.

"Everything alright, Norge?" he asked, not for the first time since they had embarked on their little quest which, thus far, had remained a very quiet- very boring- endeavor.

"Ja, Danmark. Everything is fine." His voice was taut and dry, suggestive of a vicious verbal lashing to come, and Mathias felt himself flinch before he even knew in full what he had coming. "But if you ask me again, I may actually slam on the brakes and let this half-wit who's been riding my bumper for the last thirty kilometers plow through us."

Alright, so Lukas was a little tense. It was reasonable, all things considering. Mathias would just have to suffice with talking to Emil, who he was fairly certain was only filtering about a quarter of what was being said into the one ear that wasn't occupied by an earbud.

"Hey, Ice!" Irritation tugging at the corners of his eyes and lips, the steely-haired Icelander glanced up from his cell phone as Mathias turned to appraise him.

"What're you listening to now?"

"Glass Animals."

"Isn't that the band that sings that song about pineapples or something?"

Mathias wasn't sure whether or not he was imagining it when Emil's annoyance faltered, overtaken by a momentary lapse of stupefaction. "You've heard Pork Soda?"

"Yeah. Remember? That time I came home and you were blasting-"

"Do you want to build a-"

Mathias jerked forward at the pubescent vocals of Lukas' ringtone, but before he could look over to catch a glimpse of who was calling, the Norwegian had swiped his phone from off the center compartment, and picked up the call with a terse, "Hallo?"

"Who is it?" he demanded, leaning closer to Lukas as curiosity and impulse got the better of him.

Lukas cut him a look that read coldblooded murder, but Mathias wouldn't be so easily deterred. He tipped his head and raised an eyebrow. "Is it Fin? Or Sweden? If it's Finland, tell him I said hej! If it's Sweden, tell him to-"

"I don't know what would put such a ridiculous idea into your head. You would have to think I'm some kind of idiot to so much as suspect I'd ever return there."

Denmark recoiled in confusion, then went stock-still as he realized it wasn't him to whom Lukas was speaking, but the person on the end of the line.

"Of course it was Denmark you heard a second ago. I live with the man in case you'd forgotten."

A few seconds later, Norway rolled his eyes. "And you think I don't know that, England? Look, I'm doing what I have to in order to stop this curse before it puts anybody in the ground. I think it would be in everyone's best interest if you minded your own business and went about your day like you know nothing about it. In other words... Stay in your own lane."

Unaware that he had been staring throughout the entirety of the phone conversation, Mathias felt flummoxed laughter blow in a rush of hot air through his nose.

"You have no idea what I'm planning on doing, so you're really in no place to tell me whether it's worth it or not. I'm the only one in any sort of position to judge that and, frankly, I'd say that it is." Mathias watched as, balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear, Lukas flicked on his blinker and veered into the next exit lane. "England, it's not that I'm not enjoying our conversation, but I should really focus on driving... And your opinion is annoying me."