Smoke.

It encompassed the stumbling figure, shrouding it in grey. Whoever it was didn't apparently care that their surroundings were just a blank canvas. Or that just breathing in the air seemed like a guarantee of getting terminal lung cancer. Not that Denmark cared either, but that was only because he had become certain that his lungs were immune to smoke after purposely using up 10 packets of cigarettes the day before due to a dare which he couldn't remember had come from (most likely Prussia)- much to Norway's disgust. He failed to hold back his laughter at the memory.

The figure was only a few feet away. Denmark found it odd that his interest had been caught yet again by it- maybe it was because it was still impossible to discern its gender, or whether or not it was actually human. It could be like that alien thing that America got drunk with. The mildly intoxicated country stepped forward to face the figure, secretly hoping that he would be able to gain a drunk alien friend that said more than fucking.

"Hej," Denmark was practically bouncing on his toes, "You're almost as tall as Sve! D'y'know you're the first person I've seen in ages- I don't think people use this street… it might be the smoke…" He trailed off. The figure had stopped when Denmark had first addressed him but had made no movements from that point on. It was unnerving. Denmark swayed on feet, which reminded him that he was drunk. And cold. He'd left his jacket in the bar…well, actually it belonged to Norway. Which meant that if he was planning on having a good night (or probably in his case day) of sleeping he figured he would have to retrieve it before Lukas found out it was missing- otherwise he wouldn't be able to have an open casket funeral by the time Norway was done. Turning away, Denmark had completely forgotten that the ominous figure had been standing directly in front of him. Until he felt a sharp pain explode on his scalp and the world around him dimming from swirls of grey into total darkness.