"Help, Finland's drunk!"

Berwald Oxenstierna closed the door behind him, separating himself from the storm outside. Winter in Sweden wasn't always that pleasent. He hanged his snow-covered coat on the hook next to him and threw his cap and gloves on a bench. After taking off his shoes he walked to the living room and collapsed on the sofa. Timo's and Berwald's dog, Hanatamago, jumped up next to him and laid it's head on Berwalds lap.

Usually the nation of Sweden would have his neighbour Timo Väinämöinen (Also known as Finland) keeping him company, but Timo was spending his evening at Mathias Køhler tonight. Mathias, the sometimes reckless Dane, had called about some left-over booze from last time he was drinking, and the Finn had agreed helping him finish it right away. Their adopted son, Peter Kirkland, or Sealand, was hanging out with friends, too. This left Berwald with some own, private time he hadn't had in a while. He was actually quite excited, because Timo wasn't as into designing and assembling furniture as he was. Now he could focus on it without getting the feeling of being too impolite.

Just as Berwald had started getting pretty excited over his project, the phone rang. Hanatamago started barking and Berwald sighed. He pulled his fingers through his blonde hair. He wasn't sure if he should answer it - it could be something important, but it could also be something were somebody "needed" his help. It could also be something completely without meaning. Berwald had gotten a lot of those calls lately.

Berwald walked back to the entrance where the phone was located. He picked it up. He recognized the Dane's voice.

"Berwald, finally!" Mathias said. He's voice was low. "You've got to help, Finland's drunk!"

". . . Jaha", Berwald answered. Timo had gotten drunk plenty of times before, so this didn't come off as a surprise - but Mathias panicing about it did.

"You don't understand! He doesn't act like he usually does. I don't know how much he has had but everything I had at home is gone. I thought we weren't going to get through even half of it - and you know how much I can take", Mathias growled. "Oh, shit. . . -!"

"Mathias?" Berwald heard someone whisper, probably Mathias. The moment everything went quiet he could here his heart pounding faster. After what had felt like an eternity Mathias answered again.

"Sorry, still here. We thought he was coming this way."

"Tell me what's happen'ng", Berwald said in monotone. He noticed that he was shaking, but just slightly. He's palms were sweating, too.

"Me, my bae . . .- Ow!" Mathias started, and continued: ". . .- I meant Norway - and Iceland are chilling in a closet hiding from your goddamn wife. You need to get here now."

". . . 'm coming", Berwald mumbled. He was about to end the call when Mathias stopped him.

"Swe, just take it easy here, okay? I don't want anyone getting hurt. I mean. . . Remember to be careful", Mathias mumbled. He paused for a second, talking even lower.  "He has his gun."

Berwald stood outside Denmark's house. He was wearing his blue coat which he had been using earlier. It was still wet from the snow, and was because of that cold. Thoughts flew around the Swede's head, making it almost impossible to stay calm and think.