Serbia is sitting in the empty void where countries dwelve, lounging on a beanbag with her feet up on a futon. She bobs her head to the music in her headphones while reading a magazine. Bosnia walks by and observes her curious.
"What are you listening to?"
"Ha?"
"I said, what are you listening to?" he says louder as the female nation frees one ear.
"Some Neda Ukraden tunes" she says carefree.
"Really? Out of all the others that..."
"Yep."
"Why?"
"Felt like it."
Bosnia puckers his lips reminiscing. "Hey, do you remember when Gadafi studied in my capital?"
"How can I forget?"
"They used to date, right?" he adds in a good mood.
"I believe so... Why do you ask?" she says still bobbing her head to the music.
Bosnia blinks slightly stunned. "Nothing just making small talk" he whispered tittering. Seeing that the female nation has already returned to her previous happy state, he awkwardly scratches his forearms and leaves her be.