"I have to go." I say shoving Prussia aside.
"Where?"
"Out."
"I'm coming with you." Prussia insists.
"No, stay here and see if Romano's anywhere around. I'm getting Italy."
"West...be careful." He says before pulling me into a hug.
I don't know if it was the fear of what was happening to Italy or if it was the fact that I knew I was walking into a trap, but I hugged my big brother back.
"I'll try." I say.
The drive seemed to take forever. Finally, I reached La Campagna and it was just as beautiful as I remembered. I push open the door to see a familiar blond American calmly reading a menu. He sees me and stands, smiling.
"5:47, you have a thing for punctuality, I see." America grins. "Have a seat."
I sit.
America opens his menu once more. "Hmm, so many tasty treats, it's hard to choose. I hear the tiramisu is good though." He winks.
I clutch my hands tightly and try to refrain from punching that smug smirk off the other nation's face.
If America notices my agitation, he ignores it. "But there are so many options, it's so hard. What do you think?"
"Where is Italy?"
America frowns. "That's the problem with you Germans, too straight to the point." He looks me up and down. "But you seemed to have struggled with the 'straight' part."
I lurch out of my chair, ready to strangle the American, but large arms wrap around me before I can rip his gloating face off.
"You'll stay still now, da?" The owner of the arms says.
I glare but say nothing.
America grins. "Cooperate and you and your little boy toy go home, piece of cake."
"And if I don't?" I sneer.
"Wouldn't you like to know." America smirks. "Now, Russia."
I feel hard metal hit the back of my head before it all went black.