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~X~X~X~X~

Ocher.

Perhaps burnt umber?

It was hard to tell, but the tall, cold nation couldn't help but keep attempting to decide whether the meeting table was ocher or burnt umber. It was rather dark, obviously, since it was re-stained. He didn't like the new color.

The conversation the others in the summit room were having struck no chord of intrigue in the man. Occasionally he would hear his name being mentioned or called upon, and he'd simply lift his gaze from the glazed wood to whoever mentioned him, giving his own trademark smile. Quite a naturally robotic thing for him, even if it did scare the others maybe a little bit.

Usually, his smile would be so unnaturally wide that his cheeks would rise enough that he could shut his eyes as he did so. This served him well. He wouldn't want anyone to look him in the eyes. His cold, nearly lifeless stagnant violet eyes that in themselves emitted the truly heartless aura that he only truly showed at home.

Only at home; He promised himself that.

-X-X-X-

As the meeting ended, he waited a few minutes behind to stare at the wood of the table, his fingers tracing along the streaks of the wood silently.

Such torturous silence.

It didn't take long before the Russian gave up and stood, the chair squeaking as it was pushed back against the hardwood floor. He didn't flinch. Even the most obnoxious sound seemed comforting compared to that all-too-familiar silence that his isolation greeted him with each day as he went home; an icy greeting that he'd grown somewhat used to over the years but hated dealing with.

He wasn't always this way, though. There used to be life in his house, life and joy and family. His big sister would give him the motherly care he would have otherwise not had. His younger sister, although with insane antics, would still keep him company. At the time, he felt suffocated by them, but now, he missed their loving touch. Both were now in their own houses, barely bothering to remember to call him occasionally. Even Belarus was too preoccupied with different things.

He had control over the Baltic states, the three weak nations giving him that company that he craved as he aged further. The problem was, that, by that point, his mind began slipping into the freezing void of madness. With that, so did his care for them.

Sometimes he began to mimic his older sister, acting as a parent to the Baltics. If they were bad 'children', it was only logical for him to punish them, right? That Lithuania was the worst-behaved of the bunch. Almost every day he would receive some form of punishment, and, as the years progressed, the punishments became worse and more sensitive to the smallest mistakes. It was only upon looking back that Ivan regretted what he'd done, and he couldn't forget. Every mark left and drop of blood spilled from the Baltic nation was burned as an image into Ivan's mind, constantly plaguing his dreams and thoughts until he was reduced to a trembling mess.

Not that it was much different than usual for him.

The tall man walked out of the meeting room slowly, focusing on the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing indefinitely in the large room as he headed to the door. Gripping the handle tightly with his gloved hand, he pulled it open. The door almost fell off the hinges with the force.

There were still some countries occupying the hallways making idle chat with each other as he continued down to leave the building. Some stopped to look at him, but he tilted his head down slowly as he walked, platinum bangs covering his violet eyes rather well. He was still smiling.

Click.

Creak.

Step.

He entered his house, the ghastly aura breezing right past him; and, for once, it bothered him somehow. Ivan dropped his keys and ran from the house immediately, trying to find any place that was safe.

Eventually he found himself at a bar a good way from his house, the dimly-lit room rather warm as opposed to the almost freezing temperatures outside. There weren't that many people in the place, just a few lonely men here and there. It's what's expected on a weekday evening. Nothing special was happening that day—at least, not for him. The bartender slid him a shot glass and a bottle of his best vodka, and Ivan drank.

He drank…and drank.

Third empty bottle of vodka slammed down on the table. Ivan was barely buzzed.

The bell on the door clinked as someone entered the room, heavy boots clacking against the wood floor and stopped at the bar, the figure sitting two seats from him. He caught a glimpse out of the corner of his eye as the bartender brought them their drink, his eyes scanning up and down. The figure was a young adult female, short blonde hair, bright blue eyes from what he could see, short shorts, cowgirl boots, and a white blouse that wasn't worn correctly…

Oh…tied at the middle.

What was such a strange girl doing in Russia this time of year, much less not even walking around in a coat?

His eyes drifted downward again, her firm, beautiful long legs crossed beneath the counter and barely touching the floor with her toe. Ivan's feet were firmly against the ground with room to keep going.

So she was shorter than him.

And she didn't look at all like a Russian.

Who was she? He didn't remember her…but there was something familiar—

"Howdy!" She chirped, turning to look at him with a bright smile. He froze. Ivan didn't even realize he was still looking at her even when she began turning.

"Uhm…hello…." He said quietly, the corner of his mouth twitching up habitually into the creepy smile.

She didn't even flinch.

"My name's Amelia! Who are you, Darlin'?" She asked. Ivan's smile faded as a slight wave of heat seeped through his jacket to his skin. Blinking a few times, he took note that she'd moved to the seat right next to him.

No wonder she didn't wear a coat…she's so warm…

He unconsciously leaned forward slightly, the heat increasing and soaking through his clothing the closer he got. A burning hand finally touched his shoulder and nudged him back a bit.

"Y'all alright? Did'ya have too much to drink?" She looked over at the three empty bottles of vodka and the fourth being dropped onto the table.

"I asked what yer name is." Ivan snapped out of his trance and looked back at the shot glass he was holding, examining it a moment before putting it down

"Nyet…nyet…I'm fine…. M-my name's Ivan." Why did he say that? She was a complete stranger who opened herself up to him so far. Why did he do the same? Her bright smile returned.

"Howdy, I~van!" She giggled. Was this girl already tipsy? She'd only had half a pint! Maybe that was why she was acting so strangely…

"hey…" Ivan felt a blush rush to his face as she lowered her head slightly, an adorable pleading look to her face that was so tempting…

Before he could grab her, she spoke again

"Do you know a place I could stay for the night? I'm here visiting family, but I got in a fight with them and don't want to go back just yet…" It was such a lie—but he didn't know that.

"Da." He said before he could stop himself. Amelia perked her head up again, wrapping her arms around him tightly in happiness.

"That's great! Thank'ya!" Ivan now had to think of a place she actually could stay at. This part of town wasn't much for business or tourists, so there weren't any hotels in walking distance. He glanced out the window. With the temperature freezing now and dropping with each passing second into the night, she wouldn't be able to make it without getting sick—or worse.

Lightbulb.

He could allow her to stay at his house if she wasn't too afraid. Maybe just someone else's presence in the house would make it more welcoming? It would make him feel better, for sure.

Ivan was almost completely lost in the warmth that accompanied her embrace. He indulged in it for the few moments it remained, her scent intoxicating.

"…come with me." He stood, holding out his hand to her after laying his pay on the counter for both of them. She took his hand cheerfully, allowing him to lead her.

Only minutes into the walk and Ivan could feel the shivers that spanned through her body. He stopped and took off his coat, handing it to her. It barely kept off the ground when she put it on, looking so small in that large coat. He smiled; she looked adorable.

They completed their walk together without trouble, Ivan having had a long black shirt beneath the coat. Occasionally Amelia would glance over and watch his muscles flex with each step through the shirt.

What an odd couple walking in the middle of the night, one wearing an oversized jacket, and the other wearing a muscle-tight shirt and a thick scarf around his neck in the beginning of winter.