Italy loved going over to Germany's house. Both because he was usually bored at his place, and because Germany was a good friend to have. Germany never let him stare blankly and do nothing. At Germany's he had no time to dwell on his past, things he had done or lies he had told. He was always training, or studying, or cooking, or something. He didn't have to be strong, or stoic or a killer. He didn't have to worry about enemies trying to kill him, or keeping out of sight on the rooftops. He didn't have to worry about blood staining his white gown or hiding the bodies of those he killed. He could be cowardly, useless Northern Italy and Germany accepted the cowardly useless him.