He had been meeting with Russia with increasing regularity for the better part of a month, and the sky had yet to fall. He was always careful, of course, and Russia was so eager for contact that he maintained a similar level of tact. Nevertheless, he found himself wondering why no one had questioned his recent, invariably ill-explained, absences. He supposed that they were trying to give him his "space" or some such nonsense. (Personally, he had always thought that that theory attested more to cowardice than enlightenment.) Whatever the reason, the relative privacy was enjoyable, and like a turtle gradually leaving its shell, he'd begun to make his visits more and more open. Sitting at a table in an unsettlingly public restaurant, he wondered if he wasn't making a mistake.
"Hello, Austria!" While he was lowering his voice out of consideration for the other's nervousness, Russia was still loud enough to turn heads.
"Ah, yes. Hello." He set down his water and gestured to the table. With a relieved grunt, Russia took his seat.
"The nearest subway stop is a few blocks away, and I was running late," he explained as he turned to hunt for their waitress. After catching her eye and mouthing for another glass of water, he faced Austria. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Lunch was a wonderful idea, by the way."
"It's no trouble," he replied coolly. "And it seemed odd that we were always meeting at night. So, what's good here?"
"The braised pork chop is excellent. Never overdone." He pointed at the menu, his finger happening to cover the price in the process.
"That sounds fine." Russia smiled and politely took his menu, snapping it shut almost immediately. He began to open his mouth, but just then, their waitress materialized with a glass of ice water.
"Ah, perfect timing. Thank you. We're ready to order." Russia gave both of their orders: the meat for Austria, and soup for himself. At a hasty word from Austria, he added a glass of wine to the list. With a deferential smile, the waitress walked quickly to the kitchen.
"I thought you liked the pork here?"
"Yes, well, I'm on a diet." He laughed, patting his stomach.
"Of course."
"What? What were you thinking?"
'You're strapped but don't want to be rude to me.' "Nothing. I was just curious. How long are we supposed to wait?"
"Twenty to thirty minutes. It would normally be longer, but it's not particularly crowded today."
Austria didn't need to look around to confirm it: his first act upon entering had been to thoroughly scrutinize the faces of everyone there. He had almost turned around and left when he saw someone who looked like Italy, but to his relief, it was only a local eating out with his daughter.
"Good. I'm famished. I had to reject breakfast in favor of a meeting."
"Well, I'm certain that you will apologize to it tomorrow. Get it something nice." They shared a light, civil chuckle. 'Wit of any kind is really a lost art.'
"It was a miserable affair, too. If I hear the phrase "overseas shipping" one more time today, I'm going to throw China overboard. I should find ways to delegate more of this."
"I would've thought that you were better at delegating."
"I used to be, but now I worry that nothing will be done correctly unless I do it. I've probably been spending too much time with Germany."
Russia smiled meditatively, leaning on the table. "I suppose I will like that before long. Losing servants changes one."
"Indeed it does." 'This is getting awkward. Where's our food?' He began to eye the door to the kitchen. Unfortunately, no one appeared, and Russia seemed to be warming to his topic.
"It's not as though I thought it would last forever… Well, part of me did, but for the most part, I was trying to be realistic."
He was drawn in in spite of himself. "You? I heard some of the things you said at the time, and –"
"Only publicly. In private I was very self-aware."
"Hmm." His eyebrow leaped past his glasses to his hairline.
"I said self-aware, not clairvoyant. I knew that some countries would leave, but I never thought that the USSR –"
"Understood. I was the same way with the Austro-Hungarian Empire." He sighed, tracing the ring of condensation left by his drink on the table. "I never thought she would leave."
"She likes you now, though, doesn't she?" The tone of hope made him look up.
"Oh, yes, very much." 'Of course, I never treated her the way you treated them.'
"That's good. It's sad when old friends can't forgive past grudges."
Austria was still trying to think of an appropriate response when the waitress reappeared. She carefully set a heavy plate covered with reddish meat in front of Russia and a bowl of soup in front of him. With a few seconds of maneuvering, they were able to switch the dishes.
"Much better." They simultaneously spread their napkins over their laps; then ate in silence. (He had to admit that Russia was right: the food was excellent.) It wasn't until they had set their plates aside to wait for the check that Russia spoke again.
"Have you seen them lately?"
Austria almost choked with surprise. Still sputtering, he reached for the water. Russia stared at him patiently, knowing that clarifying or asking again would be redundant.
"Um, no. I wasn't at the last World Meeting, and they're not really visiting me anymore." He didn't look up from his hands. 'My nails could use cutting.'
"Are they avoiding you?"
"Everyone is. They think I need space."
The check came, and while the conversation continued to the door, it stayed light. Austria returned to his car, lost in thought. 'I'm not really doing anything wrong, am I? It's not as though I have any particular reason not to associate with him. It's just two ex-empires discussing their glory days. I don't agree with him. I'm appalled by his actions. He's just lonely, and, Samaritan that I am, I'm talking to him. There's nothing wrong with it. I just haven't told the others because they haven't asked. And wouldn't understand.
'There's nothing wrong.'