I reached out of the shower for my towel, shivering slightly. Russia had forgotten to mention that hot water would shut off midway through the shower. I quickly towelled myself down, trying to avoid looking at the bruises in the mirror. I then looked towards the floor, trying to find my dress, but it had disappeared.

Or had been removed.

Fuming, I wrapped myself as completely as I could in the towel and marched to Lithuania's old room, finding one of his old work shirts and a pair of pants at least three sizes too big for me. I stole a belt from Latvia's room; that held the pants up, at least. My feet were bare, but I didn't care. I pulled my long hair back with some string, but I couldn't find a brush or comb anywhere. I sighed; no wonder the Baltics had always looked so scruffy. I headed downstairs, careful to not make a lot of noise, in case Russia was in a foul mood. I remembered that much from the USSR days.

Russia was standing by the stove in the kitchen, stirring a pot of something that looked green and oily. The smell was enough to make me gag; I wondered what all was in it.

"Ah, good to see you, sestra," the large nation smiled. "Would you like some shchi? I don't normally cook for others, so I hope it's to your taste. There is cabbage, vodka, and some pork product in this one."

I glared at him, not giving him an inch. "Russia, what happened to my dress?"

"Come. Eat something." Russia ladled out a bowl, tossing it onto the table with a practiced wrist, not spilling a drop. He tossed a second to me; a little slopped over the edge, staining my left index finger a pale green. He then gestured to the empty chair. "Please eat," he added kindly. Did he just not hear my question, or was he playing deaf? He'd used that before... Was that it? What was he thinking? I decided to play along, at least for the moment.

I took the seat; it creaked a little, and I found myself smiling, despite myself. When Armenia and Moldova and I were still USSR nations, we would come into the kitchen and play cards when Russia was out. Armenia and Moldova. My friends.

Tears came to my eyes; I tried to swallow, to keep the weakness from showing, but it was too late. One, maybe two tears hit the tabletop. Immediately, Russia stood, concerned. "Georgia! Are you all right?" he asked, so alarmed that I looked around instinctively, checking to see if there was another nation with the name of Georgia in the room. "Was it too strong for you? I suppose I added too much vodka. I do enjoy the flavour..." the taller nation mumbled gently, bending, trying to look me in the eyes. I avoided his gaze, standing, trying not to let any more tears go. "Georgia..." He sighed, then finished his bowl of soup in silence.