Hungary was standing idly at the door outside. She dug her heel into the uneven cobblestones, keeping an eye out for trouble. She had volunteered to guard the door just in case any early birds decided to show. Hungary wasn't very nervous. Not yet anyway. She was a capable warrior, and she had proven herself in battle many times before. And having a solid wall against her back gave her relief. No one could sneak up on her like this. She had time to relax.

Hungary had her long chestnut hair tied and pinned back. She normally wouldn't be too bothered with her hair, but since it was long now, adversaries could easily grab it. She would have to kill a bitch if she had to cut her hair during a fight due to her own stupidity for letting it hang loose. Her green eyes shifted back and forth. Austria had left her side to confirm their preparation with Germany. Actually, along with being nervous, Hungary was excited to get in on the action. She loved the thrills -and terrors- of battle. They put her to the test, and she always felt powerful when butting heads. Maybe it was her pride, but when she emerged victorious, nothing felt greater. Especially earning bragging rights for being a /woman/.

Rustling nearby alerted Hungary and she posed with her weapon bared. She was quiet, focused on the source of the noise. She hesitated, before she called out in a demand, "Who goes there?!"

Out of the woods stumbled Prussia and Italy.

"Miss Hungary!" the Italian exclaimed, clearly happy to see her.

"Italy!" she returned, but gave little acknowledgement to Prussia. She didn't know what Italy was doing with Prussia, but she still had a soft spot for him. The two of them hugged. Italy purred a happy, "Ve~" and Hungary cuddled him. He was so cute, she thought. Of course, Hungary had known Italy since when he was small and she always though he was just the most adorable thing. She remembered how she used to dress him up like a doll (and from time to time she wondered if her actions had somehow "influenced" Italy to become how he was now).

Italy, on the other hand, carried a little boy's ideas. He was smitten at Hungary's beauty. His feelings towards her resembled those of a schoolboy crushing on his teacher. Not that this particularly bothered him, nor did he constantly linger on it.

Prussia cleared his throat and their hug fell apart. He was a bit deterred by this intimacy that they shared. Someone so awesome like himself didn't handle mushiness so well.

"Yeah, well no thanks needed," he told Hungary and waved her off. Hungary was a little peeved by his narcissism (a feeling far from new to her), but she did feel a little bad for ignoring her old partner.

"Thank you, Prussia."

Okay, Prussia had to admit he himself had a bit of a weak spot for Hungary himself. He cracked a humored grin and turned back to her with a thumbs up.

"You got it, little girl~!"

Hungary was going to get him back for that insult later, but for now she had to grin with him. She wasn't going to take offense and let him win a victory against her, however so small. Best friends? Enemies? Who knew? The ties they had were more knotted than anything. Prussia vanished among the trees again, and Hungary felt a spot of pity. She knew how badly Prussia wanted to participate in the game. If there was one thing Prussia loved, it was conquering. It was a shame he would miss this opportunity.

"Come on, Italy," she turned the young man to head inside. She had to keep her post. "I think Germany's about to lose his head over you again."

"Okay~" Italy did a small wave with his arms before trotting up the stairs, shouting "Germany!" Hungary turned back with a giggle. Even when she heard Germany yelling at him in the dark room above, she thought it was funny how he managed to stay so spirited in the face of battle. Which, now that she thought about it was a little odd. Maybe Italy just handled his anxiety better than she thought he did.

—

"Check it out, yo~!" America strutted ahead of his group (except China; someone had to guard Romano) as he led them through a small network of underground tunnels. "It doesn't go on for very far, BUT there are manholes to climb out of."

"How did you two find this place again?" England cut in.

"Simple~" Russia answered, "I pushed America against a wall and he fell through it~" Russia said this with no hints of remorse whatsoever. Why should he? Something good came out of venting pent-up aggression against America. These tunnels could be very handy against the opposing team.

"Yeah, I didn't think Russia could pack a punch, but boy was I wrong~" America laughed, though he rubbed a spot at his lower ribs, caused England's concern to grow.

"Why don't we just 'ide Romano here?" France suggested, "It will buy us a 'ell of a lot of time to nab Canada and get back 'ere."

"It's against the rules," Russia kindly pointed out, stopping in his tracks, and consequently stopping France in his tracks too. France warily stared up at the Russian. "The flag has to be 'hidden in plain sight'."

Russia said this was the strangest expression that it gave France the willies. Russia was sure scary when he meant to be. The Frenchmen didn't know why Russia was so keen on abiding by the rules. In war, you used any method necessary to win. Some people valued honor in battle, but others played scrappy. He was pretty sure that the majority would choose scrappiness over honor here. In any case, given France's list of past defeats, he had no problem with playing a little scrappy. He wanted to win this thing.

America snorted, "You mean like France camouflaging in his getup~?"

"What?!" The Frenchman dramatically gaped, "What is so wrong with my clothes?!"

"I would have thought you learnt that lesson by now," England joined in on the hazing, "War is a competition, not a fashion show."

France inspected himself.

"I don't see anything wrong with this!"

"A red pin-striped jacket with coat tails, a bejeweled cravat, and beige knickers. You might as well stick a bull's eye on your chest, /ami/."

France flinched, appalled that England dared to even speak a single word in French. England had -on many occasions- insulted the French language, saying it was a devil's tongue. France was appalled, but impressed.

"Tour's not over, dudes!" America reminded them, and they dropped their petty argument.