"Hurry up!" Italy called. Germany was jerked back to the present and saw Italy waving at him from half a block ahead. Why did that boy only become faster than him when food or the enemy was involved? He didn't make sense.

"I told you to slow down! It's not a race!" Germany snapped. He remembered that he had left his soldiers, but he reasoned that they would continue until he returned or until it was time to quit.

...

"Awesome!"

"We need to take breaks more often!"

"Hey, if I were in charge, and not my lame-ass brother, we would."

"Great party, Gil! Hey Rolf, more beer!"

...

Yes, Germany's troops were diligent; they would be fine on their own. Contenting himself with that thought, Germany followed his ally into the restaurant. They sat in a booth in the corner, and Italy quickly ordered the all-you-can-eat spaghetti, while Germany, thanking God for comprehensive menus, ordered steak and mashed potatoes.

As they waited for their food, Germany noticed that Italy wasn't talking nonstop. In fact, he wasn't talking at all. He glanced at his only friend and realized that there was a strange expression on his face. It took him a moment, to figure out Germany what it meant.

"I-Italy, are you... thinking?" Germany asked, bemused. He didn't mean to sound insulting, but it didn't matter; Italy couldn't read the mood if his life depended on it.

"Huh?" Italy's head jerked up, and he looked confused, a much more normal expression for him. "Oh, ve~, yes! S-sorry, I know you said to not worry about it, but I'm trying to remember why the name Holy Rome is so familiar."

Germany looked suddenly uncomfortable. "W-well, like I said, you probably heard it before, I don't know, even with the closet open I don't remember everything. I mean I'd probably remember more if I actually looked in there, but I really don't think that's necessary."

"Ve~, well if you say so," Italy looked thoughtful again, which worried Germany a little.

They sat silently until the food arrived. Italy devoured one bowl, and asked for a second. Germany was glad he'd worked out with Italy that he would stop ordering pasta when Germany was finished with his meal. It was polite, not to mention that it was the only way Italy wouldn't be banned from every restaurant in Germany that offered all-you-can-eat pasta.

Once they had finished eating, the two headed back to Germany's house. Germany offered to make coffee, and Italy quickly agreed. As Germany began taking out mugs, Italy excused himself to go to the bathroom.

But Italy did not return to the kitchen. Leaving the bathroom, he found himself drawn back to the basement.