【 D4y 2, 1# 54f3r00m, Curr3n7 T1m3 700p - R0m4n0, 1t4ly, Pru5514 & (F/n) 】

The second team had filtered out after preparing a small meal for Spain, Romano and Italy. It consisted of your sandwiches, meaning Team B didn't have to wait too long. France made some distasteful comments about Englands cooking, before blanching when Canada said something about America growing up on the stuff and saying it was the same as French cuisine.

"Are you feeling better now?" You approach Italy, watching him cautiously. He sits on the tabletop with his eyes drooping, a smile forced upon his lips.

"Everything is slowly... going back together." He mulls, looking at the floor. "I remember bits, but I can't tell if it's out of order."

"Then just think about it in chronological order." You tilt your head.

"That's what he's been doing." Romano crosses his arms, leaving the bathroom. "If I wanted an answer like that, I'd ask America." You hear a flush and Prussia leaves the bathroom moments later, walking over with raised brows. You greet him with a nod, and he winks in reply.

"Oh, well, I know he has." You nod, laughing at yourself. "But I mean, like, think of the year it happened. As countries, you have lots of historical events to store, so you only really need to remember the important ones." You reason. "So, say you have three different memories centred around the wars. One could be when America joined, another when you got given the necklace from Germany and another when you remember training." You think back. "So, logically, even if you don't realise it, you can ask someone else the different memories you have, and they can sort it into chronological order for you." You shrug. "I could be wrong, so don't take my word for it. Or you could already be doing that. It's just that it might relieve some stress."

"That's a great idea, Alice!" Italy smiles. You bunch your brows, a wispy laugh leaving you.

"Oh, erm, thanks, Italy. But my name isn't Alice." You send him a look of worry. "Can you remember my name?" Italy panics for a second, leaning back as his eyes stare at your face. His brother gives him an intense stare, hovering beside him. Prussia raises his hand, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Their name is--"

"I think-" you raise your voice over his "-it would be best if he remembers himself." You give Prussia a stern stare. "He may come to a time when he can't rely on others; he needs to try himself." You look to Italy, softening your expression. "So, Italy, can you remember my name?" Prussia crosses his arms, mumbling something about Germany.

"It's a... (F-/n)?" He tilts his head. "(F/n)!" You smile at this. "Sorry, (F/n), of course, that's your name. I remember now."

"It's fine. I'll accept you forgetting my name just this once." You grin, a coy look appearing on your face. "You do it again; you'll have a consequence to pay." Prussia coughs, clearing his throat as his flushes.

"That's a bit--" He purses his lips. "Didn't realise you two were so close?" You hum, perking a brow at him.

"I think we are, but you can't ask him when he's in this state. He barely remembers my name." You laugh softly.

"Wait a fucking minute!" Romano frowns. "How did you know that the German Bumpkin gave Veneziano a necklace?" You blink under his intense stare.

"He said that he got given a necklace from Germany ages ago. Then he lost it." You say without hesitation. Romanos goes to speak, face scrunching up in frustration before his head falls.

Well, technically Italy did tell someone, and that was Romano, like, 40 years ago. So, I'm sort of not lying.

"Oh..." Romanos expression falls. He looks down, lips forcing together.

"Don't worry about it." You wave him off, his expression obviously meaning to be apologetic. "This situation is pretty tense. I don't blame you for getting defensive." You smile, closing your eyes. "I'd rather you shout at me than anyone else." Romano rubs the back of his head, muttering something under his breath. "Prussia, can we talk a bit?" You smile. Prussia stands up, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Sure." He stops leaning against the table and nods over to the kitchen. You lead the way as Prussia follows behind and leans on the side as you reach up into the cupboard. "What did you wanna talk about?" He tilts his head, watching as you stretch for a cup.

"I didn't." You give him a side eye as you take one down.

"Yes, you did." He furrows his eyebrows. "Don't tell me you've lost your memories too?" He jests, elbowing you. You chuckle.

"That was sarcasm." You nod your head towards the brothers, chatting away - stuck in their own world. "It wasn't us that needed to talk."

"Oh, gotcha." He does finger guns, sitting on the counter. You look him over as one of his heels methodically hits the cupboard, watching you pour drinks. His lean body gravitates towards you, waiting for you to fill up the cups. You push one over to him. He gives a quick thanks and begins drinking, hands cupped around the mug and not holding the handle. You look him over, realising his form is wirier than lean. A body for a swimmer.

"Can I ask you some questions?" You randomly ask, eyes soft. He raises a brow. "It's not bad; just, you might be uncomfortable."

"Go for it!" He grins. "I'm an open book."

"Does albinism stop you from getting muscles?" You lean forward, propping your elbow on the counter.

"Of course you notice I work out!" He exclaims proudly, gripping his fist, so his bicep doubled in size. Your lip curls up at that. "Don't go falling for me, (F/n)." You laugh at that.

"I can't help myself, Prussia." You give a cheeky grin. "You're so charming. I could never keep myself away." You coo. You both laugh together, his laugh slicing through the air and catching the Italy Brother's attention. Yours is under your breath, like a soft hum. "Still, you dodged my question. Is it?" You repeat yourself. He purses his lips.

"My physical body would be overwhelmed by my pure strength that it would burst at the seams." He flexes his arms, and you give a snigger.

"That's what you believe? Nations are kind of like celestial beings, and aren't connected to a body?" He stops what he is doing, halting even his breath. He furrows his brow, the glass like hairs showing his befuddlement. His lip tightens, a low whispy laugh leaving him, and suddenly he no longer appears 24. "I'll take that as a yes." He stretches, arching his back as he rolls his neck. He's ignoring you.

"How do you think the others are doing?" He asks, not moving his head, but taking a quick second to peer from the corner of his eye. You hum, mindlessly swaying back as you take a sip of your drink.

"Germany will be fine. He's got Canada and Russia, the two biggest countries." Your eyes drift over to the Italian brothers. "Also, your brother is built like a tank." You point at Prussia, taking a step away. "And he's been around for, like, two hundred years or so. So he's had time to train," you look up, "the dude works out like a madman. He's thick." You tittle. "With two c's." Prussia snorts, cackling. He jumps off the side, picking up the other two drinks before giving them to Romano and Italy. He lingers for a second, the boy's conversation coming to a halt.

"Don't worry your little brain about stuff, Ita." Prussia fondly tussles the burnets hair. "You've got ya' big brother looking out for you." He smirks at Romano, who gives a huff, rolling his eyes. "Well, I use 'big' sparingly." Prussia gives a thoughtful nod. "Romano, even though you're the eldest, you're the smallest, right?" Romano's face grows red, slamming his hands down on the table. Prussia gives a hearty laugh, throwing his head back as Romano spews a string of swears at him. Prussia leaves them, taking significant strides towards you as Romano stares at him for a dull moment before dropping into his chair. Prussia wraps his thin, pale fingers around his mug before heading towards the beds. He stops, looking over his shoulder to raise a brow at you. "You coming?" He eyes you over. You pause, looking at him plainly. "I know you want to sit with the awesome me, so don't act like you don't." He smirks before continuing his way. You sigh, following him over to the beds. He sits himself down and pats the spot beside him, bringing a foot underneath himself. You settle down, copying him with your injured leg spreading out.

"I'm exhausted, and it's not even ten yet."

"Yeah, today has been a long one." Prussia places his drink down, removing his shoes.

"So, how have you been?" You ask, watching as he neatly places his boots by the head of the bed, tucking the shoelaces into the shoe. He gives a hum, adjusting their place one last time before looking at you.

"Good. Little bit of monster slayin'." He shrugs, a grin appearing. "Nothing out of the usual." He leans back into the pillows, propping his heel onto his other knee. He spots a hole in his sock and sighs.

"From you," you smirk, "that's believable to be an everyday lifestyle."

"From anyone else, its crazy."

"You can say that again." You raise your glass, and Prussia chuckles before hitting his mug with yours and taking a hearty swig. You sit in a comfortable silence, looking around the room.

"Do you have any pets?" You ask, adjusting your position, so you sat cross-legged. "Other than Gilbird?"

"West lives with me, and he has dogs. There's Blackie, Berlitz and Aster." He lists off, putting up three fingers. He chuckles, a grin eloping on his face. "Berlitz is a two-year-old golden retriever, and he is so troublesome. Last week, West brought new pillows because Blackie, a dachshund, dropped it in the bleach when he was cleaning. So, West brought new pillows, which was fucking hilarious to watch. A burly German dude buying pillows fit for an old lady. But Berlitz, Berlitz is so protective of the pillow." He puts his drink between his thighs, his face lighting up. "No joke: he doesn't like the left one, only the right one. He'll sit on it, and growl if you go anywhere near it. We had our boss come over for tea. It turned into a meeting, yadda yadda, so I got kicked out - can you believe that? - and Berlitz was growling at him." Prussia begins cackling. "And West explained why, so our Boss moved. And do you know what Berlitz did?" You smile, watching as Prussia begins to get red in the face, eyes appearing to water as he tries to stop laughing to tell the story. "He g-got on the sofa, sat on the pillow-" he takes a deep breath to attempt to steady himself. "-and began rutting against it. Eye contact and all." Prussia rubs his eyes, still laughing. "It got to the point where he had to throw the pillow into the hallway because Berlitz wouldn't leave it alone. Our Boss hasn't gone to our house since."

"Oh my gosh, that's hilarious." You grin, fingers smoothing over your mug. "That's one way to get rid of someone, I guess."

"Ja, West had to buy a replacement pillow because Berlitz refused to part with it."

"You said Berlitz and who? The other two?"

"Blackie and Aster."

"What breed it Aster?"

"She's a German Shepard."

"That is incredibly ironic." You chuckle. "Speaking of pets, where's Gilbird?"

"He's sleeping under a bed. He hates the cold, so he's all bundled up." He lifts his shoulder to cuddle his neck.

"What's it like to have a bird as a pet?"

"Gilbird is an awesome bird. He's only shat on me twice." You chuckle at the fact he holds pride in that. "He'll eat worms, berries. Once ate some wet dog food too. West had to rush him to the hospital."

"Do you mean vets?" You raise a brow.

"Yeah, yeah. Animal hospital." He nods nonchalantly. You stifle laughter, holding back an eye roll. "Hey, don't do that!" He chides, yet a grin remains on his face. "Don't think I don't notice your sarcastic remarks." He points a finger at you. "I feel like no one else notices them."

"My remarks?" You raise a brow, feeling cocky as he gives a challenging stare. "Don't think I've forgotten about you shouting." He shrinks back ever so slightly, not expecting that to be brought up in such a light hearted moment. "You scared me, and you haven't even said what made you shout." You lower your voice, soft and tittering on afraid. "You never said what scared you."

"Nothing scares me!" He defends. You squint at him.

"Sure."

Time zoomed by, Prussia avoiding the conversation and it was half ten before a group returned. Spain went to invade Romano's massive space bubble. Japan spoke with Italy. China and England talk for a moment before China nudges the blond over to you and Prussia. He pads over, eyebrows raised at you and Prussia. Before he goes to say something, Prussia speaks up.

"Oh, (F/n)!" Prussia lights up. "You said you picked up some books yesterday. Can I see them?" You blink at him, surprised he remembered.

"Yeah..." You nod slowly, unsure. "I'll go get them." You slip off the bed and approach the bed on the edge. It is the bed Germany designated you earlier, and you still feel butthurt about it. It is the fact that it meant no one could sleep either side of you, having Russia be on your right. Not that Russia wasn't enough, it's just you would have liked to be between someone, or maybe you didn't want the edge. It pointed out the fact that you are away from everyone, while simultaneously putting you in a dangerous position if the safe room was compromised. You get on your knees, whincing, pushing your bag away to look at the stack of books you had collected over the span of two days. You hum, unsure of which book to give to Prussia. So you take them all. You lug them over to him and dump them on the end of the bed. Prussia jolts away from his conversation with England and looks at the books in surprise.

"I didn't know which you'd like, so I got them all." You admit, thumbing over the edge of a book.

"That is quite a few." England comments, his eyes scanning them before he picks one up. "At least they're all hardback."

"I know, right?" You grin, eyes lighting up. "It also means that they have a binder, and most of them are coloured!" You flick open a book and look at a blue bound one. "They look so much nicer than just glue, and it makes it feel more special, y'know?" You look at both of them to see gentle expressions. Your face falls for a moment, an intense blush appearing on your face.

"I take it you're a big book fan." England raises a brow, a demure look.

"I... don't really know a lot about them, nor read that many. But the ones that I have read are good." You give a skittish smile, thumb brushing over the spin. "They're mostly my mother's books, and a few have been my siblings. I, personally, prefer fictional ones." You admit, feeling timid. "How about you two?"

"I have many fictional books at my place," England says proudly. "Arthur Conan Doyal and Ezra Pound are just a few of my favourites."

"Sherlock Holmes!" You burst, a giddy smile on your face. "I love those books, I watched the TV show first and then got into the books. I only watched it because of Martin Freeman, because, y'know, he was in The Hobbit, and one of my favourite genres is mystery. And then there was the movie that was set in the correct time period with Robert Downey Jr. -- Iron Man." You make a weird noise, between a hum and a squeak, displaying your joy. "England is the best." England gives a laugh, a broad smile appearing on his face.

"Thank you very much. I appreciate your vigour when it comes to British entertainment." Prussia begins cooing, grabbing a book.

"Kinder- und Hausmärchen!" He lifts the book, marvelling. "I'm going to show this to West when he gets back."

"Pardon?" England furrows his brow, looking snappy. Prussia's loudness had interrupted his conversation. It was hard to have a decent discussion without America around to ruin it, and now he has Prussia to take that Yankee place. He peers at the title of the book and recognises it. "It's that ghastly book."

"I recognised the word Grimm and thought of you." You note, leaning forward to look at the cover. "It's in German too. I've never read it, but I've heard of it."

"Would you like me to read it to you?" Prussia asks, already opening it.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I kind of wanted to read it in its original language myself."

"Learning a new language just to read that thing. That's an extraneous length to go to." England comments bitterly. He looks at Prussia. "I thought I remembered you complaining about that book when Holy Rome was about?" Prussia looks at him, eyes dull for a moment before he laughs.

"(F/n) wants to hear my awesome voice reading them a book. Can't deny them that, can I?" Prussia laughs. You roll your eyes, your lip curling up.

"I'd rather have a conversation with you, Prussia, than have you read me a story." You smile at him, tilting your head.

"I'd be careful, (F/n)," England warns. "You say that sort of thing to him, he migh--"

"England!" A voice shouts, full of panic. America and Canada rush up the stair, faces pale. "Clear some room. We need some rope - quickly - before he wakes up." Canada rushes over to the Italy Brothers. They all jump up, rushing around.

"And a blindfold! Russia said to get a blindfold!" America adds. Romano runs over to the stack of crates at the back, untying a length of thick rope from the box.

"What's wrong, boys?" England asks, placing a hand on Canada's shoulder.

"France is hurt and-and--" Canada takes gasping breaths. "He's not healing. We got ambushed."

"Ambushed by who?" Prussia asks, jumping off the bed and running over, hand on his gun. A childish giggle emanates from the stairs, and you watch in blind curiosity as Russia carries another man on his back. The man is enormous, rivalling Russia's size. His hair is like salt and pepper, numerous black strands standing out against the thin grey hairs that curls around his ears. He wears a black coat from what you could see, black trousers and tall black boots. Swaying to Russia's step is a long red scarf, the colour bold and vibrant.

Russia carelessly drops the body on the floor, the planks vibrating. Your feet skim the floor as you shift on the bed, doe-eyed as you scan the newcomer. Your surprise shifts as you can now see his face. A broad nose with a kink, a sharp jaw link and deep-sunken eyes. A long silver scar crosses his right eyebrow, but the end is blocked by the leather eyepatch he wears. You gulp, staring at the dark bags and mindlessly takes small steps forward, but they do nothing to the distance between you. Everyone shoots into 5th gear, grabbing a chair and rope, but not before covering his other eye with a towel from the side.

"Look who I found lying around." Russia uses the tip of his boot and pokes the body on the floor. "My twin."