Ova Da Rainbow: HAWAII'S STORY (3)

Good Morning, Good Morning

This wasn't nosy, right? This was about security issues. Who would be better to keep an eye on Britain than Hawaiʻi herself?

That's what she told herself for days before. That's what she said over and over for her case.

It was surprisingly easy to find a certain Jack Fitzroy among the hundreds that came on that plane. He didn't try to hide his arrival, of course he didn't. Hawaiʻi had every step planned out perfectly, so it would bring him to this exact beach. To this exact location. Right where she could intercept him.

That all depended on whether Britain would be smart enough to look where the heck he was going.

"There's a puka over there, watch out!" Hawaiʻi called, only after the man had already stepped in the hole and fell flat on his face. Perfect. "Oh, goodness, are you alright?"

She picked up his wallet, which had fallen out, and pocketed the money inside quickly. Sure, she wouldn't steal everything. But hey, this had to be at least 30 dollars in American money. She then walked over to the man on the ground.

"Are you alright? I do hope you aren't hurt." Hawaiʻi said, trying to suck up the courage to look up at the man's face. One more moment. Then she could make sure that this was the same old Britain she remembered.

Hawaiʻi's eyes widened at that. He was... darker than she had supposed. He was an empire, after all, it would make sense he would look mixed... but it still threw her off. Maybe this was the wrong person.

The only thing that kept her from apologising and returning the money was his eyes. Same old Britain, same old eyes. Hawaiʻi knew sometimes eye colour would change with human forms, she herself had more orangish eyes in country form and darker brown otherwise.

"What's your name, sir?"

"Jack. Why?" The man said, and Hawaiʻi took a deep breath, before smiling.

She could never forget that voice. Sure, it was a little different, but then again, so was hers. It was Britain, alright.

"What in the blazes is a puka anyways?" The man said, visibly annoyed.

"Oh, it's a hole. A puka. You also have a puka in your shirt from where you tripped." Hawaiʻi said, pointing to said hole.

Britain silently cursed, as Hawaiʻi sat next to him. "You don't mind if I sit here for a while, do you? I'm... Mele."

Emma was too familiar. She couldn't take any chances.

"Aloha, Mr. Jack. I am so happy to meet you. You remind me of someone I know." Hawaiʻi said, her voice thick with a fake accent. It was supposed to sound more mainland American, and less local. Sort of like a travel advertisement.

Seemed to work.

"Who would that be?"

"Oh, said person was a friend of mine, stabbed me in the back a while back, but hey, things happen, don't they?" Hawaiʻi said, shrugging. I am sounding like I am losing my mind. Oh well. "I like your accent. British, right? Don't think I've ever met someone from there."

"Here on holiday. Was sort of forced into it." Britain said, sighing.

"Forced? Do you not like the islands, Sir?" Hawaiʻi said, making a sort of saddened face. It almost scared her how easily she could put on a show, how easily this ruse was played. "Most of your people love it here."

Oh, Beretania, you taught me so well.

"It's not that I don't like it here. Just memories, I suppose." Britain sighed. "Past things that don't need to be worried about."