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Description
From story 4 of TCE: A Slice of the World, found here: [link]

Ahh there's so many nice body language descriptions in there, had to choose a few nice poses, haha.

Specific excerpts:

"Does anyone quite realize what this is yet?" Russia asked, and wiped sea-spray of his cheek with the back of his hand. "France must be furious." He turned on his heel and walked a ways up the beach, then sank down to sit in the sand. He rested his arms on his bent knees. "And what will Spain think of you? I'm sure he had ambitions of reclaiming Mexico."

America stayed on his feet, not quite hanging back. He shook his head a little. "No one's really angry about it, so far. No one thinks I'm serious."

And for the bottom half:

America retreated from the water's edge and sat down beside him, one leg propped up, the other folded beneath him. He rested his elbow on his knee and tugged at the ends of his hair. He regarded Russia. "What is it?"

"You know, America." Russia planted his right hand in the sand, leaned back on it. "I should not have to explain myself. My people are happy here. They can trade, they have access to the sea. There aren't many, but they have done nothing to merit being uprooted. And yet you seem to think that partitioning off half of the globe for yourself is not only your right, but should be supported by those who have everything to lose." He inched his arm closer to his body, and America could see where the grains of sand had left marks in the pale skin of his forearm.

The Chosen End (c) PyrrhicComedy and Wizzard890
Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya
Art (c) Minuiko

Description
From story 4 of TCE: A Slice of the World, found here: [link]

Ahh there's so many nice body language descriptions in there, had to choose a few nice poses, haha.

Specific excerpts:

"Does anyone quite realize what this is yet?" Russia asked, and wiped sea-spray of his cheek with the back of his hand. "France must be furious." He turned on his heel and walked a ways up the beach, then sank down to sit in the sand. He rested his arms on his bent knees. "And what will Spain think of you? I'm sure he had ambitions of reclaiming Mexico."

America stayed on his feet, not quite hanging back. He shook his head a little. "No one's really angry about it, so far. No one thinks I'm serious."

And for the bottom half:

America retreated from the water's edge and sat down beside him, one leg propped up, the other folded beneath him. He rested his elbow on his knee and tugged at the ends of his hair. He regarded Russia. "What is it?"

"You know, America." Russia planted his right hand in the sand, leaned back on it. "I should not have to explain myself. My people are happy here. They can trade, they have access to the sea. There aren't many, but they have done nothing to merit being uprooted. And yet you seem to think that partitioning off half of the globe for yourself is not only your right, but should be supported by those who have everything to lose." He inched his arm closer to his body, and America could see where the grains of sand had left marks in the pale skin of his forearm.

The Chosen End (c) PyrrhicComedy and Wizzard890
Hetalia (c) Hidekaz Himaruya
Art (c) Minuiko