"I need to find Canada…" England paced the length of his humble home. His grey night shirt crinkled and blue sweat pants folded upwards tumbled down in haste as the lanky man stumbled across his plush cream carpet to the oaken wardrobe. Arthur Kirkland had seen better days, be it when a pirate stealing that 'bloody Spaniards treasure', getting rid of the slave trade with the help of African nations, winning over that prat by the name of Francis Bonnefoy at the battle of Waterloo (bloody wanker still wouldn't keep his hands to himself) and the Industrial revolution which England started with the matter of fact. Just to name the memorable few.
In the large mirror Arthur (England) blinked back wearily at the unrecognisable person. His shoulders limp in exhaustion, his vivid moss green eyes which normally twinkled with wonder were a dull forest of leaves shrouding a terrible truth, big bags of fatigue weighed down his eyes and his normal messy blonde hair had lost its lustre and sagged down in sweat and dirt. A hot long shower tempted the island making him lazily grab his normal garb, which complimented his eyes, and let a harsh downpour of burning water over ride the pain his felt convulsing his heart. His movements slow and uncoordinated meant he met only the minimum requirement of hygiene.
Leaving his Victorian home and crossing his garden blooming with purple foxgloves, untouched white primroses, wild pale yellow daffodils and the list goes on. But the man was not in the mood to slow and admire his nation's beauties. His mind was blank with only the one thought. Finding the quiet maple loving nation.
Hailing the traditional black taxi to the rendezvous for the next world meeting the driver could not help but notice the fatigue represented in wrinkles on the man's face.
"Not your day sir?" The man politely asked looking in his mirror flashing a sympathetic smile.
"You have no idea." Arthur croaked out while his throat grated together like sandpaper much to his discomfort. The black taxi came to halt in front of a glass building. The sleek design and modern colour palette did well to Arthur's eyes which had a hard time focusing.
The receptionist raised an imaginary eyebrow at Arthur's clothing not ever having seen so much green adorn a person in a military style. But Arthur did not have the patience to indulge her in formalities.
"Arthur Kirkland for the World Meeting under Ludwig Beilschmidt." The lady straightened up immediately understanding his status and the constant typing of her keyboard had Arthur nearly reaching out to pull out his issued hand pistol and shoot the 'blasted' piece of machinery but thankfully she stopped to send a dazzling wide smile in his direction. He turned to ignore her as he felt a pounding headache surface and drum painfully against his skull.
"This is the Delta room on the second floor, coffee and tea can be ordered on the ground floor or I can get back to you. Is there anything you would like?"
"A pot of chamomile tea with no sugar or milk." Arthur grumbled out and walked away without a second glance. He had no time or energy for gentlemanly acts. Right now he need to concentrate on his job. The meeting room was spacious with simple pastries on a table on the edge to help the countries coming earlier to pass the time quicker. Much to his surprise Italy jumped up from his seat and flood into tears as his face contorted into pure horror.
"Ve! Doitsu they have a-no pasta!" He hollered like the world was ending in mere seconds. Germany a larger man armed with a frustrated expression grumbled with displeasure as his super senses tingled to warn him of an upcoming fight starting.
"Nein, Itaria pasta is not alloved in meedings. You knov zis!" His german accent thick and shrouded with irritation with having to face the same reaction at every meeting. The hard guttural sound of his voice intensified Arthur's headache as the man slumped onto a seat on the U-shaped table far from the commotion.
"Is zerre problem, ~komrrade? I brought my faucet pipe of pain in kase I need it~." Russia entered with the loud thumping of his leather boots as his porcelain white large hands held a metal faucet pipe with a 'U' ending covered in flaky outdated dark blood. The rest of the pipe was shining in the bright light of the room straining Arthur's eyes when he glared at the pipe. It had been well kept considering the amount of scratches and the numerous times Arthur had seen him use it.
"No, Ruszia, no pipe. Ach! Itaria stop crying and zit dovn and efferyone get to your zeats. Ve're starding early." England could almost hear his brother's mocking tone shoot through his head, 'Tauld ye englain. Ye, cannae e'en handle yerself at th' meetin' hoo did te handle th' British Empire?' Arthur gritted his teeth and swallowed down harshly and looked up with slight forced smile.
"Oh mon Prussia, Spain what a gluhmy dai. Eez zis 'ow England wents to treat 'is guests. England yur country, sairry ai meent island, eez goeng to drown itsélf at zis raté." And there when his smile. England glared, well as threateningly as he could in his weakened state. However his mind scolded him for wandering and he set his eyes to lazily scan the room for Canada and his bear- Kumajiro if he remembered correctly. When one wanted to see the shadow of a nation one needed to have a clear mind and solely concentration on finding Canada. His presence is very easy to dismiss if you don't pay attention.
'Arthur Kirkland reduced t' representin' a country in a meetin' room t' shuffle paper fer th' next five hours. How life has changed. Bein' a Corsair were bein' more fun and it kept me on th' front lines.', The pirate inside of him exclaimed the next line roughly, 'Ye idiot, hoist the mainsail, with a chest full of booty!' Seems like he was addressing a deck cleaner, 'Now I feel like th' political figures I used t' swear at so much fer honeyed lies' England gritted his teeth and swore loudly to show he was the dominate one in this body before grumbling a little agreeing statement.
"The avezome Prussia is here. Bov before me!" Germany ticked off on his register and looked disapprovingly at the albino before returning to the list. Prussia boldly laughed and sat down and got a slap on the back from Spain as they both laughed. Gilbird, a pale yellow chick on Prussia's head, chirped in tune with the laughter.
"Ja, next is France." A fair skinned man stood and flirtatiously blew a kiss into the air while swinging his delicate rose around with the other hand. England never understood how a, dare he say, handsome man like France could be easily labelled by a stranger to be a pervert. All that was left was for it to be tattooed onto his forehead.
"Unfairtunate-lee ai am present een zis uselez meeteng." France ran his fingers through his hair and gave a stomach sickening smile, which somehow ensnared decent women in his vile flirtatious acts.
"Zit dovn France and shut up. Next America?" There was silence and England happily let a smile adorn his face, even if it was weak, the boisterous American was nowhere to be seen. This meeting suddenly got a hundred time better than before.
Much to Arthur's distress the double doors slammed open to introduce an energetic large man in a tan bomber jacket and a face splitting grin. Behind him the receptionist entered quietly with a mixed expression still wondering how she should react to the larger man's entry to a potentially critical meeting.
A pot of tea and cup was soundlessly placed in front of him which made Arthur smile back apologetically, somehow the island still felt responsible for the larger nation which probably stemmed from his parenting days. The woman left with a worried and quizzical smile and shut the door firmly behind her. The recently soundless room exploded with a mirage of chatter and emotion. Somehow the world started to spin around Arthur.
"Yo, the hero is here. Whazzaup Germany!" England bit back a retort on proper English but he already knew how the conversation would end.
"Late akain America. Zome zings vill not be tolerated, zit next to Japan." America bounced enthusiastically over to the nation with a façade of indifference painted firmly onto his face. Japan acknowledged the American with a polite and reserved nod but froze at the sudden slap on his back, as the American greeted him violently.
"On to the meeding. Ve haffe France talking about the hygiene of public spaces." The feminine structured man slandered over to the front as America caught England's gaze. But the island quickly cut it off opting to sweep the room with his eyes concentrating solely on Canada.
England sitting in the middle of the U shaped table had a perfect view of France's pompous speech and everyone sitting on the table. Scouting an empty chair England concentrated, much to his distaste, only to notice the space stayed blank. Startled about the occurrence he tried to casually arc his gaze along the room to see anything out of place. Italy was dazed and mumbling about pasta. Germany was multitasking to listen to France's speech and prudently watched others to find anyone misbehaving. Prussia was grinning with pleasure and listening to the constant chirping of Gilbird while occasionally chuckling darkly for an upcoming prank. Spain and South Italy fusing over something England had no time to care about, hushed swearing and empty threats were all he heard.
Russia on the other hand was an empty seat either side of him, much to England's surprise, his larger frame was sufficiently wrapped in a large tan coat which was buttoned up tightly, reminding him of the Red Army coat with the colours reversed. His hands uncovered to reveal smooth pale skin, which only added to his intimidating features, as they worked diligently to effortlessly glide a black pen across his page. His pastel ashen blonde hair fell conveniently covering his eyes crossing between a nightfall of amethyst and byzantium glowing eerily with childish innocence. Wait. His lips were moving. England narrowed his eyes suspiciously then a faded outline came to his view. It was Canada.
England was beyond stunned as the large frosty was being badgered by a smaller frame in a Canadian light tan winter coat reaching his knees. The Canadian was seated carelessly on the desk next to Russia's paperwork with an astounding smile etched into his features. His petite stature giggled with laughter as he politely brought his gloved hand to his mouth but that did not help contain the laugh. Canada's abnormally meek voice was replaced with fireworks of giggles. Ocean deep glittering blue eyes were a cross between shadowy lilacs and crystal clear Mediterranean cerulean. Some confused his eyes for blue or purple but England couldn't decide personally, he liked Canada the way he already was.
"So during the Crusades you were attacked by", Canada couldn't stop the flurry of giggles erupting, "the Teutonic Knights where you killed them by chance by drowning them in freezing waters!" The Russian let out a low chuckle before resuming his work quietly. The others near Russia nearly ran to the other side of the room expecting a faucet pipe to the face but a glare from Germany left them silently whimpering. They had enemies on both sides.
"How did you manage that?" The Canadian's light airy voice was shockingly firm as he swung his legs over the edge of the table like a child.
"No let me guess, you said it was during the winter right. So the lake was probably frozen to say in the least. But what made them sink…oh yes their armour if I'm correct they wore a lot of chainmail and metallic plating so that added to their weight and the ice could only take so much. That is so cool Russia, even if you didn't plan it." Much to England his ex-colony jabbed at the dormant reincarnation of Satan (maybe) without a care in the world.
Frozen. He waited and waited. But it never came. The metallic pipe was not armed by the childlike Russian instead he chanted his usual laugh, trying to muffle the noise with his other black leather gloved hand. 'Shit, I'm still sleeping. I need to wake up. Yes, I'm dreaming.' England muttered to himself which caught the attention of America who was about to voice his concern when Germany, having the perfect timing interrupted the flamboyant nation.
"Can you hand out zis papers…erm Ruszia?" The strict man picked at random and Russia obediently stood up, followed closely (damn it, is he trying to get himself killed) by the timid Canadian.
The Russian effortlessly picked up the dense stack of paper, his leather gloved hands grabbed half the stack and Canada approached the pile and eyed the papers like they were his enemies. He watched closely and assessed his strengths as if contemplating if he could carry it. Russia sent him a soft look, as if to encourage him gently, and the Canadian steeled his features and grabbed the rest. America who couldn't help himself let out a high pitched girlish scream.
"Mother Fucking hell. Its floating, shit Nihon do you see this! Iggy it's a ghost save me!" England was highly tempted to exploit his situation but he groaned at his next sentence.
"You Commie bastard what voodoo shit did you pull!" As if by magic a thick bundle of paper was slammed into the insane American's face. The man, who was moments ago waving his hands around wildly, stood immobile and slumped into his seat.
"Zanks Canada." Germany spoke sternly, many swerved around and sent a questioning glare to Germany as if to as if he needed a check-up as no one was there to smack the American. Some would have spoken up if it hadn't been Russia who was accused. England focused his attention to the faint outline of Canada which soon focused and became coloured. The once humble and passive man frowned with a look of disappointment at his twin. He gazed up to catch England looking at him in pure amazement, and all the younger nation did was wave innocently at his guardian with a modest victorious look.
"You did not have to Komrade. I vould have handles it and made him one vith Mother Russia." As if to prove his point he features darkened and he finished with spine chilling chant. Canada made immediate eye contact and only smiled knowingly.
"He was getting on my nerves anyway, maple." The others looked at Russian as if he was delusional but some were, excuse my language, 'shitting bricks' at his threat. Having a childish Russian the size of a bear was enough. Having a hallucinating, childish Russian the side of a bear was an over kill. Fate had a weird way of, again excuse my language, 'fucking' people over.
Germany continued but America quickly got bored after having awoken from his stupor, even if he had been quiet for a good half an hour which was unusual for him, and jumped onto the table. Much England's horror America pointed to him with a megawatt smile.
"Artie watch I'm gonna prove I can be amazing at this…ah thing!" He jumped off the table, and Japan clapped his hands together in a reserved fashion but stopped after feeling a heated glare from Switzerland, the tall man stalked over to the front with a warning stare from Germany. But he made no stupid comments. No he contributed in a still obnoxious voice. But England was further growled in annoyance, there was only one explanation for all this nonsense. England was sleeping. It was so obvious. It had been forty five minutes and no tables or chairs had been harmed so far.
The meeting went on with England ignoring everything around him, his pounding headache deterred him from concentrating on anything but the minutes trickled into hours then Germany let out a sigh of relief.
"Zat vent betder zan exbecded. Ach! Spain stop molesting Zouth Idaly and lisden." He heard a squeal to his side and glared pointedly at the perpetrator, "Arg, Gilbert stop trying to scare Itaria and America calm dovn and stop chumbing on your zeat." America was flashing his dazzling smile in England's direction but flattered at the blank look he got. The fall in America's smile clenched something in England's heart as he remembered how America used to run to him whenever he was upset. With great exertion he tilted his lips upwards to revive the bright smile on America's face.
"Nov, tommorov zere is no meeding. But I expect kood behaviour," Gilbert strung his arms around France and Spain only to start whispering (more like screaming) about going out to lift a drink together, "and no Gilbert you may not vaste yourself in ein pub. You are dismized." As if magic was cast there was large rush to run out the room. 'So much for finding Canada in this stream…I swear this room will burst at the seams if this continues.' England stood and shuffled his papers together with a pained look flourishing on his face. He pressed towards Germany's angry form.
"Nice to meet you Germany." Germany piqued an eyebrow but saw England shivering in his clothes and turned his posture with more concern. "I was wondering if you can give me Canada's address I need to discuss some important matters with the fellow." Germany narrowed his eyes but did not fire any questions, taking out his file he had catalogued where everyone was residing so if there was an emergency they could locate everyone easily.
"Here." Germany wrote in clear writing the address and turned as Italy grabbed his hand wailing about 'his country running out of pasta'.
"Vait Itaria a-" Germany was about to try and assist England more but the fatigues man could only wave him off. Not noticing a pair of apprehensive eyes shadow his every move.
"Your help is much appreciated." And England walked away, with a slight limp and swaying more side to side then normal, to say Germany was worried was an understatement. He knew something big was going to happen. And very soon.
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Canada was a large country, sorry I mean second largest, so it was just bizarre to think he was so easy to miss. Alfred, America who was actually his younger brother (shocking I know) all because Matthew could learn his alphabet first, had a tendency to pop in and out of remembering Canada altogether. It was torture, renewing his hope like a fire then throwing cold water onto it so casually Matthew no longer bothered to care if America really remembered him. Father, England, and Papa, France, remember him more the America could put together in a year. There was a time when Canada hated America's guts and admired the obnoxious man. He could make friends so easily and fit in so will without having to change his personality. 'Did people like to be near reckless people would don't think before doing anything…' Canada always wondered and even asking Kumajiro but all be got in return was a 'who?' So he wondered if there were other people out there who could be noticed easily. And that person just happened to sit on him, not a first good impression, but Canada was hooked immediately.
Russia was…strange for lack of a better word. When Canada first saw him he didn't see him, no. Canada was seated away from the door so he had his back to it therefore he had not known Russia had entered. No, he felt the dangerous man's entrance, when Russia strode in he flooded the room with a slipstream of frosty cold air. Canada had stiffened up and turned cautiously in the stranger's direction. A childish smile adorned his lips as he walked with a beat in his step. His long light pink scarf fluttering behind him while his thick black leather boots thumped against the carpeted floor. His eyes blazed with curiosity, however there was a hostile edge to it, Canada shivered uncontrollably as those vibrant amethyst eyes swept over him.
"Everyone vill bekome one vith Mother Russia, da?" His voice light and airy with an innocent ring to it but those words meaning were heavy as lead ready to crush you without mercy. His near-white complexion had Canada's head spinning, this…man is an artic nation. Oh maple. Canada could only comment before it went downhill. The room was completely empty, even Germany was not here yet.
The Russian's shoulders sagged like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His smile cracked and fell to pieces at his feet to be replaced by forlorn and pity. Even his laugh, consisting of chanting 'kolkolkol', resembled depression.
"Who vould be vith Mother Russia. Mother Russia kould only hurts people." The large man exclaimed with a hoarse shout. His voice grating in desperation of acknowledgement. Arms flung open looking up to talk to no one. 'Merde he is being personal if he found out I'm here…merde' Canada could only repeat finally recognising his invisibility as a blessing.
Fate was cruel. Of all the seats available to the large man he decided he wanted to sit on the seat Canada was occupying. Canada felt something prickle at his neck, swallowing hard the Canadian could only try to sink deeper into the chair only of the heavy man to get 'comfortable' on him. As if lightning struck the depressed man he leaped up and whipped out a metallic faucet pipe and armed it viciously to his side. Canada could only whimper as Russia's eyes assessed him vigilantly making sure the pipe was tensed for an attack.
"Je suis désolé! Je ne voulais pas empiéter."(Sorry! I did not mean to intrude.) Canada stuttered out as a choke. The Russian analysed the trembling nation with wary but lowered the pipe in stunned silence. One word changed it all. "Matvey?" Canada's eyelids exploded open as he looked flabbergasted at his name being spoken with disbelief. Removing his arms which he placed protectively in front of him he saw conflict in Russia's eyes. "You know me?" Canada, or Matvey, tumbled over his words as the Russian immediately got rid of his pipe and smiled with glee.
"Da!" He answered happily, or whatever was close to it, he wasn't like America and respected Canada's space. "Please forgive me, da. I did not see you." Russia carefully placed his large hand over his heart with a sad twinge in his eyes. Canada felt forceful heat rise to his cheeks from the excitement of someone else noticing him. "No!" Canada stood defensively and watched Russia's childish smile return to his face.
"I was intruding, but I must ask where you know me from?" Canada flushed more deeply having admitted that he had not noticed Russia being familiar with him. The Russian looked at him with a whirlwind of emotions flickering in his eyes but he locked them up even more tightly when they decided to escape.
"You are the second largest country, I have to know, da?" Canada's eyes widened at the revelation and looked around nervously to shake off the burning sensation of his cheeks. Russia watched the smaller nation closely. Some say Canada and America were twins and Russia would have admitted to agree. But times change and Canada was the polar opposite to America. Canada had lighter skin while his hair was a wavy light blonde with a golden halo compared to America who was slightly tanned with straight deep honeycomb brown hair. Canada wore more winter jackets and carried around a polar bear while America dressed in his own wacky style and was terrified of ghosts, so much that Russia was tempted to threaten to release ghosts into America instead of launching nuclear weapons. Lastly Canada was Russia's favourite out of the two, the young one was hard working and dedicated to being helpful, something Russia could even admire.
"I start, da? Preevyet Canada." Russia held out his hand and all Canada could do was blink questioningly at it. Everything clicked and Canada quickly clasped Russia's gloved hands into his own with a warm smile of pure joy.
"Salut Russia. How are you?" Canada asked politely. Something told him it was going to change everything. "Da, I am good. I am sure Matvey has many friends but I would like to be one." Canada sucked in a large gush of air and held onto it. Russia looked down curiously with a hint of concern. "Oui, Russia that would be great, oh maple I don't have any other friends I'm afraid." The Canadian mumbled with a crestfallen face.
"Da. Then I is Canada's first!" The younger nation spluttered in surprise, Russia had somehow phrased the statement in such a way that Canada's cheeks were literally caught fire.
"Oui, Russia, you are my first friend." Canada reiterated, loving the way it rolled off his mouth in disbelief. Russia smiled his usual glee filled smile and sat down heavily, collapsing into the chair without a care for the creek it moaned out in protest. Canada sat down more carefully and eyed the Russian warily, having seen different relationships between other countries he wondered how his and Russia's relationship would turn out to be.
"Why are you early, Russ-sia?" Canada tripped over the larger man's name but he took no notice of it. Russia shuddered comically, much to Canada's confusion. 'Mais I thought Russia was not afraid of anything…well according to America who says Russia only terrorises people.' Canada thought.
"Da, my sestra can be very, ah prityazhatel'nyy, in English controlling, I think." Russia attempted. Hesitant with his answer while taking a wild swerve of his neck and cupped his mouth to whisper, as if speaking about her will make her magically appear in front of them. Canada leaned in to strain his ears and choked on the revelation.
"Il ne peut pas être." Canada stared unfathomably, his mind suppled him with spitfire images of Ukraine holding a knife and crackling evilly, while chasing down an unconceivably petrified looking Russia.
"Erm, Russia are you sure Miss Ukraine will do such a thing?" Canada watched Russia's features soften as his older sister's title but burst into a chorus of laughter. "Nyet, Canada!" The Russian continues to laugh heartily, Canada felt his neck prickle as Russia's voice hung in the air, feeling beyond flustered Canada averted his eyes but was forced to turn back when Russia leaned in closer than before.
"Moy sestra Belarus." Canada stiffened immediately having his personal space so closely invaded with his knowledge. Tundra like coldness infected Canada's warmth, having felt goose bumps under his heavy coat for a long time Canada could not move away.
"Mein got, Itaria. Sdop or nein pasta for ein month." A grasp of horror identified himself as Italy. German entered with a strict posture and didn't waste time to get all his equipment out for the meeting. He swept his surroundings like a hawk and raised an eyebrow as how close Canada and Russia were. It looked like Canada was centimetres from kissing Russia's pale cheeks. 'Mein Gott, I ein drink' German cleared his throat and spoke sternly.
"Canada, Russia," the German eyed the larger country emotionlessly before returning his gaze to Canada, "need anything?" The silent ending hung in the air like a disease, Canada cringed nervously observing Russia's reaction, nothing. Well if a smile of pure childlike innocence could be anything, underneath Canada could feel the stirring of anger. Something Canada understood was when you are almost always, well ninety-nine percent, invisible to others if he watched people's faces carefully he would notice the flicker of dangerous emotions on their faces before they expertly covered it up. But Canada noticed. He saw that millisecond of rage pulse once before leaving an empty slate.
"Non, I am fine, Germany." Canada spoke firmly, something he prided himself in when confronting Germany, it stemmed from WW1 and WW2 in which Canada was a tactical genius and a skilled field operator. Germany nodded and left the room after staring suspiciously for a few seconds.
"Canada is friends with Germany?" Russia asked, his voice cold and grated like sandpaper rubbing harshly against Canada's eardrum. Russia had his back to Canada opting to stare indifferently at the spot Germany had stood in.
"No." Canada spoke, finding confidence from some god damn well of bravery."He is like that with everyone when you are around." Canada responded without a second thought. 'Merde!' Canada screamed internally. "Da, he is…" Russia answered monotonously. Clearly affected by Canada's brutal honestly.
"Je suis désolé, Russia." Canada didn't trust himself to continue, so instead he placed a careful hand on Russia's coat. Tight coil of muscles twitched under the tan coat but Russia stilled, waiting and observing.
"Da, Canada be careful next time." The words danced innocently in the air as Russia twirled with a devouring smile itched into his face, his spine-chilling amethyst pools sized up Canada's stature before he left, swinging his hands back and forth. But his feet, or heavy leather boots, made no noise against the carpeted floor. Canada collapsed into his chair before huffing out a long held breath.
'Fukeneh just fukeneh!' Canada wanted to scream, yell and cry, he knew how sensitive Russia turns out to be but Canada just knew too much. Being a spectator had its strengths but he needed to careful as to what he lets out. "Maybe I lost my first friend…" Canada muttered slumping into the plush seat.
"Matvey!" Canada chuckled. 'Great now I'm hearing things…' Canada stood and dragged his feet to the door, glaring at the floor with self-hatred. "Euh," Canada was hit head first into a thick soft material. Brown dominated his vision as he blinked, confused. Looking up he saw Russia grinning, pearly whites gleaming dangerously in the light, a rare rush of heat flooded over his face and body.
"Euh," Canada was hit head first into a thick soft material. Brown dominated his vision as he blinked, confused. Looking up he saw Russia grinning, pearly whites gleaming dangerously in the light, a rare rush of heat flooded over his face and body.
"Russia! Je suis désolé de nouveau." Canada squealed, feeling guilt wash over him, this was the most embarrassing day of his life. 'I bet Russia probably looks down on me now.' Canada revelled in his misery.
"Da, I did not know I was very comfortable to sit on Matvey." Russia stated care freely, Canada glanced down now he was literally sitting contently on the older man's chest.
"Je s-suis dé-desolé." Canada stuttered out again, cheeks permanently stained red with embarrassment. Scrambling off the man like a retreating prey, Russia stood effortlessly and allowed a grin to slip onto his face. His sharp incisors obvious in the light, but nevertheless the man reached into his pocket. "Prosti Matvey. Here." Canada was handed a piece of paper with numbers and letters with curls and loops added abundantly.
"When you is free, Matvey can call me and we can play!" Russia exclaimed like the world was gifted to him.
"Huh," that was all Canada could manage at the moment.