France's Daughter // Hetalia

Chapter Twenty-Eight- Stranger Danger

Charlotte (Charlie, Lottie)

9:23PM

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If there's one thing I do know, it's that Ivan has the best vodka out of anyone. 

I don't want to talk about Francis, nor do I want to talk about what happened. I can, however, tell the story of my plane ride to Russia. It was dull, very lonesome, and annoying. But, being welcomed into his mansion by none other than Ivan Braginsky was quite a treat. He brandished a leaky water pipe, just in case I was followed. I laugh at the thought now. It's constantly snowy there, who would have the energy to follow me?

Lucky for me, everyone is intimidated by Ivan. So, if someone wants to try to talk me into going back to Paris, they'll have to go through my big-boned best friend.

 I feel a bit bad for him. When Raivis, Eduard, and Toris moved out, his only visitor was Yao. I don't know the whole story, but when Ivan told me, there was this menace in his smile that I couldn't quite understand. I guess he's pissed about Toris moving in with Alfred.

Anyways, after I got settled in and threw all my luggage into a guest bedroom, I got to bonding with Ivan. Of course, I brought the bottle of vodka he had bought me for my birthday. Why wouldn't I? Although, it was a bit unnecessary. He showed me his cellar, where he kept more vodka than I've ever seen, and probably will ever see, in my lifetime. He kept no whisky, bourbon, gin, scotch- not even beer. Just. Vodka. 

And that's where we are now. He was a bit nervous when I first arrived, fidgeting and trying his best to make sure I was comfortable- but now that we got to drinking, he's much more fun than I thought. Remember how I said he was like that uncle or grandpa or something that pulled quarters from your ear? Now, he's like that one big brother that tricks you into snow boarding off a cliff. It's awesome!

"And then, you'll never believe this-"

"Da? Da?", He leans in close, cheeks flushed. 

I hiccup, laughing hysterically, and lean in close as well. "He says he doesn't know who my Papa is!"

We both burst out laughing, to the point where I'm teary eyed, gasping for breath. I never knew hanging out in a vodka cellar in sweats and messy hair would be so much fun. I've never seen Ivan in sweats, though- it's a nice change from his weird robe-looking thing. He still wears that pink scarf though. It's endearing. It's like one of his trademarks.

"Okay, okay, I gotta know-", I quickly down another shot, hissing and coughing. I recover quickly, though. "What's with the sunflowers? You have them planted and painted and- hic- shit, everywhere!"

He grins widely, eyes twinkling, and quickly pulls a close to wilted sunflower from the pocket of his sweat pants. I take it, snickering. I'm so drunk. It looks like it has a little face. I look back up at him, trying to concentrate on anything but the spinning of the room. 

"It's always so cold in Russia", he says. "Sunflowers grow in only warm, areas, da?"

I nod weakly, fingering the golden petals gently. I don't wanna rip one off, he'd murder me. I giggle at the thought of Ivan losing his mind over such a small flower. 

"They remind me of warmth", He takes it back, swiping it back into his pocket. "I hope to move someplace where they flourish, someday."

"How are you giving me such precise answers?", I slur, throwing myself onto the floor, the cold tile feeling nice against my cheek. "Are you still sober or somethin'..."

He lets out a childish giggle, and picks me up by my collar, placing me down in front of him. I sit criss-crossed, laughing from the daze. I can't tell if his face is really that distorted or if it's just the vodka.