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RUSSIA
There's a certain scale for measuring earthquakes, and one for measuring sound, and the one for measuring how close he was to losing his mind was about to go out of bounds.

What the hell was China saying? He didn't really care. Maybe if he drank more he would forget. Did drinking wipe all memories? UN certainly did. This was a drastic change from Egypt and the pyramids.

"Russia," China's voice was clear. "Have you not been listening again?"

"Maybe...?"

He rubbed his temples. A few hours had passed by now, half of brainstorming and the other half ravaging JE's room for a minuscule item. "Russia. Listen. We're going to try and get through to Romania through an old USB of JE's. Websites don't cross through dimensions, but apps might, even if they're on real world-issued devices. Do you comprehend?"

"Yes," Russia said determinedly. He could see America smirking out of the corner of his eye.

China looked at them both and groaned loudly. "Anyways—"

He didn't finish his sentence, for there was a click on the door and it flew open, inviting warmth into the air conditioned room.

"We're back!" South chirped, looking comparably too cheery for a serious expedition. "We had dinner already, by the way. If you guys want to eat first, we can wait until you're back to share what we found. It's not too much, though."

"Russian food is very nice," Reich said, and for once it didn't sound much like he was choking. He, too, looked rather lighthearted. South beamed.

China looked around. "I suppose we can, if everyone's in favor. We'll bring back some drinks from a convenience store of sorts."

"I'm hella tired," JE complained, and Italy nodded. "You had me absolutely ransack my room for two hours just to find that it was in the front pocket of my bag. Can we stay at home? I'll order."

"We can stay too," Ukraine said, motioning to her and Canada. "I'm also a bit weary. Plus, I've changed into PJs already..."

"Alright, just us, then," China shrugged, looking at America, Japan, Russia, Germany, Canada and Poland, an unlikely group that also looked a bit sleep-worn regardless.

Canada gave a murmur of agreement as the group shuffled off to get ready. "China, can I talk to you for a second?"

★

They hailed a taxi at the front of the Airbnb and arrived at a small, candlelit — for some reason, Western — restaurant that didn't look too much like one meant for a friend outing. It smelled deeply of cinnamon and lavender, had plush velvety seats, and topped off with waiters all decked in formal attire, a musky air to the darkness.

America was the first to speak up, flame illuminating his eyes. "Er, are we at the right place? I thought we were having Russian cuisin—"

He paused. "Where is everyone?"

Fuck. Russia gaped, whipping back a minute too late just as the realization dawned on him. The others — damn traitors, turncoats, really — had fled, and the blinker of the taxi was lost in the misty traffic. America, a hundred percent sober this time, quickly started sporting a red tint to his cheeks.

"Ohh," he said, like an idiot. Russia felt his own cheeks heat up bashfully, also in idiot nature. Whatever respect he had for Canada and China, it had now evaporated.

"Well," America smiled, still against his blushed face, and extended a hand. "After you," he joked.

"You are so unbelievably..." Russia began.