TRNC knows who his birth parents are, and Egypt made sure of that.
Under what circumstances, Egypt isn't about to tell him the details, but he's happy to tell him that Turkey and Greece were on better terms than before— he was a child born of conflict, he knows, but he was born of peace rather than violence, Egypt stresses.
Intricate, lacquered, hardwood door. Turkey is behind it— Egypt knows what kinds of sounds those are— ones of abject misery, but he still hasn't the heart to say goodbye before Britain drags him off. Turkey was a vicious asshole, but he has some redeeming value. Egypt will be sad to go.
Paint peeling, and glowing warmth behind a clear glass panel, and Egypt walks in, laughing and smiling, the happiness infectious— Greece is even smiling and twirling Italy about. Turkey never comes to these. He's never invited. Each year, Armenia is put in charge of sending out invites, and each year, Turkey's invitation gets 'lost in the mail'.
Cold, impersonal glass and impeccable modern style. Cyprus, the poor boy, is clinging to Egypt, and just as Egypt is about to leave, the door opens and Turkey asks him to take Cyprus to the park for a little bit, since he is swamped with work, which Egypt is ready to call bullshit on until a vaguely familiar voice shouts, "HEY! OLD MAN! YOU TOO OLD TO GET IT UP NOW OR WHAT?" If Egypt were any other country, he might have had a nosebleed or leered, but he stares at Turkey, nods a sharp, "I see.", and almost drags Cyprus out of hearing range.
There is almost a sort of sick-fascinated taboo on asking, Egypt thinks. There is the thick taste of yogurt and chickpea stuck in the back of his throat, and the savory blend of red pepper, lamb, and garlic on his tongue, Armenia looks ready to spontaneously combust, Italy chatters to him obliviously, but the most distracting thing is the bright red, lobster-esque quality of Greece's face, and Turkey's Cheshire grin. Cyprus seems oblivious to it all, wondering why neither of them are talking. Egypt thinks that Cyprus will be a very good peacemaker when he grows.
The door to the room is shut tight, and Egypt is quickly pulled in, a feeling of— oh, how do the French say— deja vu settling over him, but this time is different. They seem happy. There is a glow to Turkey as he announces that Turkey will bear healthier, smarter, stronger children than Greece. They start fighting again, but it's not like before.
The imposing wooden doors and the gold filigree hide nothing unexpected, or nerve-wracking importance. Cyprus will be declared independent of Greece, and the new Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus will stay with Turkey. It is only a hearing to see who recognizes each as a country. Egypt wishes, hopes desperately that his boss will recognize the little nation, but such things are not meant to be. It breaks his heart to see TRNC clutching desperately into Turkey when the doors open and everyone comes pouring out.