If anyone had caught him standing where he was right then, they probably would have accused him of spying. He certainly had no reason to be outside the German office, fighting the urge to smash his ear against the door to hear better.
Despite the implications, his intentions weren't off. It was just that the music inside was intoxicating. It was a flute solo, delicate and nothing like the music that typically drifted from under this door. Especially so when it was the Eastern half stationed to work there that day.
The former kingdom had wound himself up through history to be constantly ready for war. And, since he and his brother had declared pacifism, he'd been left a nervous bundle of energy. He near shook in meetings as he looked for a fight which might never come. His music reflected that, and stayed as forbidding and manic as often as he could make it.
Canada wondered what this was supposed to represent. He wondered if anyone knew or suspected what it was supposed to (if it was even supposed to). Considering how East Germany was, and the fact this was when nobody else was supposed to be there, he figured they might not.
The music stopped, and Canada was brought from the world of flowing melody to the reality of his situation. There were sounds, almost like a case was being opened to put an instrument away and quiet tears being fought back. But that was crazy. Canada didn't stick around long enough to examine it, he'd rushed away before he could be accused, condoned, or celebrated. Whatever it was, he didn't want it.
He'd learned something that day, despite himself. Something wonderful or horrible, he wasn't quite sure. But there wasn't much to do with this new information, so there wasn't much reason to dwell on it.