Arthur stood with effort inside the tiny supply closet, opening the door a sliver. He looked around to see if there were going to be any witnesses of Alfred's breakdown once they left the closet. No one to be seen. He looked back at Alfred who was shaking like a leaf. Arthur pulled him up and walked him out safely.
"…Alfred, you will be okay…"
They sat in Arthur's living room, silence enveloping the both of them. There was nothing to the atmosphere but an uncomfortable, unpredictable aura. Arthur sighed. He looked over at Alfred, who seemed rather…zoned out…Arthur was genuinely worried by this time. What would happen if Alfred stopped showing up for the world meeting, he thought. He couldn't, in good conscience, let the other nations see America in this state. Alfred wasn't in the state to go anywhere at the moment. Arthur shook his head. He stood.
"I will be right back, Alfred…Alfred…?" He walked up to him and stooped down to Alfred's hunched over level. He looked into Alfred's eyes and saw that thousand-mile stare. He sighed and hung his head as he stood up. Walking to the kitchen and rummaging in the cabinets for some alcoholic drink of some sort, Arthur became lost in his own thoughts. He brought out some drink and prepared it for himself, walking out to the living room just to find it vacant. He blinked, slightly confused, but concerned moreover. He was about to set his drink on the table when he heard a familiar click…and he stood up to feel that the back of his head was being held at gunpoint. Shit…