+ Court Yard +

A cool breeze tugged at Arthur's hair as he stepped out of the door and into the courtyard. The air was fragrent with grass and flowers, easing his reeling mind. It was a warm day and he'd long since ditched his blazer, opting to tie it around his waist. He'd even gone as far as to roll back the sleeves of his shirt to expose his marked-up arms.
The Briton stopped by the wall and watched the wind play across the grass; it was nice.

Feliciano walked out of the halllway, seeing Arthur standing not too far ahead. He smiled widely and ran after Arthur, glomping him as they made contact. "Arty-Kuuuun~!" Feliciano cried, his normal greeting to his British friend.

"Italia!" Arthur laughed loudly, finally getting used to his bubbly friend's greeting enough to catch himself mid-fall. He snaked his arm back and hugged the Italian's torso.
"Hey, whut's up?"

"Ve~!" Feliciano llaughed. "Feliciano was bored, so Feli went looking for his buddies!"

"Guess yeh found one, eh?" Arthur asks with a smile.

"Si! Ve~!" Feliciano hugged Arthur. He always would greet his friends like this.

A faint blush creeps up the older boy's neck and his gives a soft laugh, "Good to see you too then, Feli."

Feliciano jumped up and watched Arthur. "Hey hey Arthur, we should play a game!" Feliciano smiled widely.

The punk boy quirks a massive eyebrow and tilts his head, "Then let's play a game. I assume that yeh 'ave something in mind."

"Futbol, Arty-Kuuuuun~!" The Italian cried, wanting to play his favorite sport.

"Football?" A light smirk crosses face and he nods his head.
"No objections from me but, I 'ave to warn yeh, I'm a Briton and by nature we're amazing at the sport."

(-cough-lie-cough-)

(Just to be sure you know, FUTBOL in Spanish is Soccer xD because you said Football.)

"Yay!" Feliciano spun around with happiness.

(Yeah, same in Britain. Everybody but Americans call "soccer" Football/Futball/Futboll)

"You know where we can find a ball?"

"Umm... No...?" Feliciano started to look in all the bushes and such for a ball. "Futbol? Fuuuuutbollllll?!" Felciano called out for a ball, as if it were a lost puppy.

The Briton suppresses a smirk then looks down at his watch. His eyes travel back up to the searching Italian.
"Want to just 'ead to the Gym and nick one from there?"

Feliciano faced Arthur. "Ve~! Good idea!"

"C'mon then," he instructs, nodding his head towards the gym.

"VE~! Alright!" Feliciano begins to run off towards the gym.

"Oi! Feli, don't-- Ugh!" The Briton sprints after the energetic Italian.

"Ve~! Ve~! Ve~! Hurry up, Arty-Kuuuun~!" Feliciano happily ran onward.

Arthur sprints after the Italian, running as fast as his stick legs will carry him.
"Blimey! Slow down, yeh sodding git!"

Feliciano hapily ran on, ignoring the Britain's request. Within the next few seconds, he reached the large doors of the gym.

Arthur pauses beside the Italian, hands on his knees and panting heavily. Well, you would be too if you'd gotten smacked in the face by a branch while running.

"Tehe, silly Arty." The Italian smiled. "C'mon!" He threw the doors open.= and ran inside.