Russia leaned against the cold wall, and felt each brick prodding him through his overcoat. Slowly he raised the large vodka bottle to his lips and took a long swig, feeling the liquid swirl past his lips. As he raised the bottle a second time, he realised other people had entered the conference room and were talking about him in hushed voices. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?
"He can't stay...whole conference...Up and out,"
Their voices grew louder as the argument became more heated. Russia finally lowered the bottle and watched America's wild hand movements towards him. The timider nation, Canada, Was mostly nodding, agreeing to whatever the blond was saying.
Russia held no interest in what the two of them where saying. Raising the bottle a third time, he realised it was completely empty. Ivan pulled a face, and tossed it at the growing pile next to him. The honey coloured bottle hit the ground and shattered. Each piece seemed to hang in the air for a shining moment before raining down around him. Leaning over he grasped the last bottle from the it's holder and yanked the cork out. He relaxed slightly with the familiar shape in his hand.
America was still talking, and Canada was still nodding. Russia wondered shrewdly whether Canada's head could roll off. That was a weird mental image. Ivan lifted the bottle and squinted at the label, and, unable to read it, he simply peered through the glass, watching the two nations still quarrelling.
Ivan noticed that America seemed to be taking slightly menacing steps toward him. Unperturbed, Russia lowered the bottle half an inch and took a long draught of the clear liquid. He went to put the bottle down, and realised it was gone! What? Instinctively Russia flexed his hand, making sure it really was gone.
Slowly ivan lifted his head and gazed at the blond standing in front of him. America didn't waver. Russia slowly let his gaze wander around, and eventually spied his beloved vodka bottle in the hands of the blond. Behind america, Canada wimpered a warning as russia slowly climbed to his feet.
Rising to his full height, Russia was impressive, even more so, was the blood splattered pipe he was currently extracting from the dark corners of the coat he wore. Canada took one look at the broken pipe, and promptly shrunk into the nearest shadows.
America on the other hand, didn't budge. But stood resolutely, Vodka bottle in one hand, and a small semi-automatic gun in the other. He began to notice the air in the room had began to change. Before it was light and airy, with just a hint of victory mixed in to make everything look good. But now? Now it seemed that he had no hope in the world. Still, America told himself, a hero would NEVER cower before another nation. NEVER! Still, he was just a bit creeped out but the blood spattered pipe. Pushing his shoulders back he glared at Russia, and lined his semi-automatic gun up with the other nations heart. If it came to a fight, then he would gladly die doing his duty. Well...maybe not die...
Canada watched from the shadows that seemed to be gathering in abundance around the corners of the room. Slowly he eased toward the door, as he watched both nations carefully. Russia, uninterested and bored. America resolute and hero...type-ish. Canada didn't like fighting, which often made him a target for the older, stronger nations. Still, if he had to choose an aliance with Russia or America, it would probably come down to Russia.
America waved the half empty bottle in front of Ivan nose, slopping some of the colourless liquid over the rim.
" Ivan," he said "Do you want to live?"
Ivan only smiled showing off uncommenly long canine teeth.
America too, smiled back, but Russia thought it looked more like a gimace. Russia blinked sluggishly at his pipe, his Vodka fried brain only begining to kick in.
