"Oh shit." America recognized the voice arguing with the General. He ducked into the nearest tent, pulling France and England with him. France threw him a look. England was stiff, eyes sharp, clearly also recognizing the voice. "That's my boss!" America gasped. "He knows!" France also gasped at this, flinching. "Mon Dieu, it can't be! He can't know you're here!" Almost as though to directly contradict France's words, America's boss's voice rose, loudly declaring "I know he's here!" America could feel something like a thin layer of ice coating his stomach from the inside. It was all over. His boss was going to take him back, and make America- he swayed slightly, feeling nauseas as a sudden thought occurred to him. What if his boss found out about Canada? His brother-the very one that they were trying to destroy-lay all but helpless, weak and confused only a few tents away.

England as always was quick to access the situation and take charge. England gave France a meaningful look. "I'll stall, you take care of this." The "this" in question was the shaken and pale America. France seemed to actually gain confidence, eyeing America up and down with a critical eye. "What-" America started to ask, but France whisked away, whispering a short "stay here". He reappeared in mere moments, and America recognized the faded tan jacket that France was holding. "Here, put this on." America drew back, his boss's orders ringing in his ears. "You want me to dress up as Canada?" America all but spat at France. France's eyes widened at the accusation, and America could tell that England had told him what America's boss was trying to do. "Non, non, it is not like that!" France soothed. "We are in Canada, it makes sense for Canada to be 'ere. We are only hiding you in plain sight." Realizing France's plan, America relaxed.

In what seemed like moments to France and an eternity to America, he was finally dressed, the small hand mirror Francis brought showing a reflection almost the exact copy of Canada. Francis frowned, eyeing him up and down. "Your eye colour is wrong." he muttered under his breath. "as for the curl..." Francis picked his figer and before America could react, twirled one of America's hair's around his finger. It held the curl shape for a moment, before snapping back into place. France "tsked" at this, and finally decided to use the goggles Canada always wore to cover the lack of a curl. America swallowed past the lump in his throat. He'd always thought he and Canada looked alike, but at this moment, nothing felt farther than the truth. He felt like an imposter in his own skin. Despite France's declaration that "You look just like him now!" America couldn't shake the feeling he was only a poor copy of his brother. The way he stood wasn't right, the way he spoke wasn't right, the way he walked, and looked at things wasn't right. His face twisted into a bitter expression.

France didnt give him a chance to dwell on this thought, grabbing America around the shoulders and steering him outside. "Don't say anything unless you have to, oui?" France commanded in America's ear. America found it was easy to comply, as his mouth went dry when he saw his boss arguing with England, who was holding his own and being condescending while he was at it. America tried to walk like his brother, dropping his shoulders and trying to seem cowed and weak, dipping his head. Standing before his boss, seeing his already triumphant grin and remembering his boss's order, It wasn't hard for America to cower. "So you did kidnap America." His boss said accusingly, voice ringing with confidence that he held the high ground. America wilted a little more under his boss's words. "We did no such thing!" England responded smartly. "This is clearly Canada." America wanted to cringe at England's bold declaration. Surely his boss would see right through that, there's no way he would accept it. His boss frowned, face twisting as he realized that he had suddenly lost his whole argument. America's heart skipped a beat as he realize his boss had bought the lie.

His boss's face was no longer triumphant, but after a moment a sly look slid across his face. "Then, can you tell me why is the personification of England, France, and Canada all here together?" He asked, latching on the strange fact. America froze. It made sense that 'Canada' and France were there, but not England. With a sinking feeling, America realized that their façade was only moments from breaking, and he was sure his boss knew it too.

"I'm not the personification of England, I'm Arthur Kirkland." England said boldly, unaffected by the other's attack. If anything, England found the attempts to get under his skin laughable. America's boss was not about to give up, and America realized with a jolt that he was probably aiming to kidnap Canada once England was gone. His boss knew Canada was weak from the war, and with only France to protect him, he should be an easy target. "So if I call your - sorry, England's - boss, they can provide me proof that England is there right now?" America's boss fired viciously at England. America was sweating, scared. They would take him back and make him- "Of course." He cast wide eyes at England, who was smiling confidently. America could see the edges of England's lip turning up into a smirk. America's boss took these words sourly, and backed up a distance away before pulling out his phone and dialling it.

If France hadn't subtly nodded, America might have missed it. As America's boss spoke on the phone, England twirled a wand behind his back. America could tell by the look on his boss's face that whatever England had done had worked. "Bullocks." England sighed, looking mildly upset as America's boss wearily headed back their way. "Now mum will know I snuck out."