The next morning, your brain was a lot clearer, but you still couldn't remember anything about your past. You were given a warm breakfast, which you were grateful for, since you hadn't eaten real food in over a week. After that, Doctor Radcliffe came in and told you that you would be receiving two visitors around lunchtime. This excited you, as you were anxious to find out more about your life and yourself.
Unfortunately for you, lunchtime didn't seem to come fast enough. You killed time by watching a show on TV called The Three Stooges, but in your opinion, it was a little weird.
Finally, the time came.
"Twelve o' clock," You murmured to yourself. "Beautiful twelve o' clock,"
Suddenly, you heard the sound of your door creaking open. "Ms. Price?"
You sat up in your bed, wincing a bit at the pain of your injuries. "Are they here, Dr. Radcliffe?"
The doctor smiled and nodded. "Yes. Now, Ms. Price, if any of this is too overwhelming for you, or your guests are making you feel uncomfortable, just push the red button on your bed. A nurse will come in right away."
You nodded, though you highly doubted that something this exciting could make you feel uncomfortable or nervous. "Thanks, Doctor."
Doctor Radcliffe nodded. "I'll let them in." He turned and said something to some people behind the door, and then left. Seconds after this, two people walked into your room.
The man was tall and in shape. He had medium-length blonde hair, mischievous green eyes, and he was wearing a colour-coordinated outfit that suited him well. The woman was a smiling brunette wearing a simple T-shit and a skirt who had a glint in her eyes that could easily get her labeled a 'bad girl'.
"Hey, _," The man said in a thick accent that you couldn't quite place.
"Do you remember us?" The woman pushed a long lock of brown hair out of her eyes as she spoke.
You shook your head. "Sorry, I don't remember you."
To your surprise, neither of them looked downcast. Then you realized that Doctor Radcliffe and that familiar guy from yesterday – Francis – must have told them about your amnesia.
"So," you said. "How do you two know me?"
"We're, like, your closest allies." The man said. "I'm Feliks Łukasiewicz, the totally cool personification of Poland."
Oh man, you thought to yourself with a grin. If these two are my closest allies, I really want to remember what my life was like.
"I'm Elizabeta Héderváry, personification of Hungary." Elizabeta smiled. "Don't worry, _, we'll help you get back on your feet in no time."
You smiled back at Elizabeta. "Thanks."
"Hey! I almost forgot." Feliks exclaimed. "I, like, brought a scrapbook of yours that you made before the accident." He held up a fair-sized black album with lacey blue letters on the front that spelled out _ PRICE.
"Thanks, Feliks." You took the photo album from him and weakly set it on your lap, wincing at the pain. "So, um, is there any news from my country?"
Elizabeta nodded. "There's good news, and bad news. The good news is that-"
A random up-beat song started playing. Elizabeta frowned and whipped out her phone. Her frown deepened as she read what was on the phone's screen. "That stupid Prussian," she said loathsomely.
Your eyebrows knit together in concern. "What's wrong?"
"Gilbert," Elizabeta glowered, as if that explained everything.
You turned to Feliks and gave him a 'help me' look.
"Gilbert Beilschmidt," He said. "is the personification of Prussia. Elizabeta totally doesn't like him. He's way too much of a narcissist."
At the same moment you nodded to Feliks, you heard Elizabeta mumble, "Why that little…" along with a few other choice words.
The Hungarian nation sighed and pocketed her cell phone. "I'm sorry, _, I've got to go. Gilbert…" a sour look formed on her face. "Well, he's being Gilbert." A half-hearted smile took place of the frown. "I'll see you later, okay?"
You nodded. "No problem, Elizabeta. It was nice meeting you. Or, uh, seeing you,"
Elizabeta shot you one last smile, then made her way out the door, cursing as she went.
"Well," you said, filling in the awkward silence. "She swears a lot."
Feliks laughed. "Yeah, she's kind of known for being a potty-mouth."
You smiled. "Yeah,"
"I can stay for a bit longer if you want."
"Sure. Oh, and Feliks," you turned your attention towards the Polish nation standing by your bedside. "I have a question."
"Shoot,"
"It's regarding Francis Bonnefoy. He seemed kind of… I don't know… uneasy, when he was here yesterday." You looked up at Feliks curiously. "Do you know why?"
Suddenly, Feliks's facial expression seemed a little less carefree. "Well... that's, like, some serious stuff there."
You froze. "Oh God," you said. "We weren't together or something, were we? 'Cause I don't remember-"
Feliks chuckled and hastily shook his head. "Nah, nothing like that; you weren't with, like, anyone."
"Oh," you let out a sigh of relief. "That's good."
Feliks made a waving gesture with his hand as if to say, forget about it. "So," he said. "Do you wanna look at that scrapbook with me?"
You nodded with a smile, though you were inwardly annoyed. Why was no one telling you anything about Francis? Since they weren't telling you, you decided that it must be something important. But what? And, you realized, Elizabeta had left before she could tell you the new information on your country.
But you couldn't do anything about it now – Elizabeta had left. So, putting a false smile on, you started to look through the scrapbook with Feliks.
