Eeee bah gum!

Following his siamese twin, Nathan felt a little like royalty as he flashed his ID together with a grin which allowed him access to the press box. Shirtless and wearing a straw hat and a pair of scruffy faded, and now muddied thanks to the walk here, jeans; his torso and was painted in the blue and white of the Scottish flag (even though he knew fine well that they weren't playing) and his face painted the same as Tristan's with half in the colours of the Irish flag and half in the Scot's flag and he had two finger lines of mud smudged across his cheeks like warpaint. He very much resembled a skinny, muddied, foppish haired Irish lovin' Braveheart.

Chuckling at Tristan's shouted support of India, he waved jovially like an excited child at his colleagues -”Hullo everyone.”- and sidled his way to a empty seat inbetween Tristan and Arjuna with all those cameras. He sat and eyed them. “You came well prepared.” He teased her and then gazed out over the pitch. The box was obviously situated so the photographers could get the best shots, but, WOAH.. what a view you got as a spectator from here!

He looked at his bro and grinned. “My money's on Bulgaria.” He mumbled. He dug in his pocket and retrieved a bag of now rather squashed and melted sweets. “Chocoball?” He offered them to Tristan and then Arjuna. He shuffled his bum in his seat obviously getting ready for the long haul. Ah.. the chores of being press.