"Why are we at a university, America?" Germany asked with a sigh as the bus pulled it up in front of a majestic building instead of the normal office building.

"You didn't get the memo? Our normal place is being fumigated, and this college was nice enough to let us borrow a room." America grinned, jumping off the bus with a flourish, the rest of the G8 following behind with significantly less enthusiasm.

"What memo? You didn't send any memos!" England shouted, glaring at the back of America's head.

"I didn't?" He had a thoughtful look before shrugging. "Oh well," he said with a laugh, holding the door open for the others.

England let out a sigh before grumbling, "Fine then, which way to the lecture hall?"

"Lecture hall?" America laughed. "The university's using that for some orientation. We're going to a classroom. There's only 8 of us—"

"9," someone interjected quietly. America looked confused for a moment before shaking his head and moving on.

"Whatever. There's plenty of room in a classroom for us. This a-way!" He swiveled on his heel and headed down the hall, the rest of the Nations following behind hesitantly.

By the time the rest of the G8 Nations had reached the classroom, America was already standing behind small podium, the blackboard filled with his, and some left-over, scribblings. Once everyone had been seated, he grinned and gestured towards the board. "The first order of business is—"

"'What are the physical differences between North and South Italy?' I am confused comrade, I thought we were talking about global warming today?" Russia asked suddenly, sounding faintly amused.

"What?!" Romano shouted, jumping up from his seat and glaring at America. "What kind of—FRANCE! Let me go!"

"Come on, Romano~" France sing-songed. "There's only one way to see~"

"What?! No! France! Stop!"

Moving quickly, France had stripped both Italies of their clothes. Romano was turning red from anger and embarrassment, cursing France in colorful Italian while Veneziano looked surprised briefly before moving to try and calm the raging Romano down. France chuckled, grinning lecherously. "I see one major difference~"

"YOU ARE DEAD, BASTARD!" Romano screamed, lunging after France.

Moving quickly, America grabbed Romano, pulling him away from France, while England 'pulled' France away (though it can be argued he simply punched the other in the face).

"Romano, Veneziano, put your clothes back on. We have to get back to the meeting!" America shouted. A couple of the Nations rolled their eyes while the Italies scrambled for their clothes. Why couldn't they ever have a normal meeting?