Reappearance of Reincarnated Literature [Russia]

[thatotherguy]

22nd of June, 1941
5:42 a.m.
Operation Barbarossa

He had been walking throughout the early hours of the morning. His legs ached something awful, and his conscious was no better. The sky, a muddy blue, was bruised purple around the edges; the stars which had followed him here were now hidden behind scudding clouds, lit up with flecks of gold. Trees whispered to each other in the wind, bird song emitting from within their branches. He wished he could appreciate the beauty of it all. His eyes were fixed ahead, however. His position was rigid. Not now, he chided himself. Not at such a time like this. Because with every footstep, every shoe imprint left upon the muddy ground, Germany felt like he was sinking. A rifle weighed him down, as did a heavy heart. It was as if only the rigorous fundamentals and rules that had been hammered into his brain over the past few months were holding him up. Pillars made of dust and sand, liable to collapse at any time. There was a keenness in his heart, though. A struggle ensued between that and his doubt, but it was there none the less. How could it not be? He was a solider. A fighter. The epitome of a dream that didn't belong to him. One he knew he had to fulfil without question. And if that meant attacking Russia, then so be it. If that was what he had to do then by God he'd do it, and he'd do it well too.

They were calling it one of the largest invasions in the history of military warfare. As the trees parted and a road was sighted cutting through the Russian countryside, he wondered to himself if that was really true. 3.9 million troops. 600, 000 vehicles. 750,000 horses. All of them, trampling into the USSR with one goal in mind. He wouldn't have been terribly surprised, now that he considered it. Operation Barbarossa was certainly... ambitious, but it held so much brute force and energy chances of failure seemed minimal. He was, now more then ever, strong (no, he knew this was not entirely true; his knees shook more with every passing day and his eyes were puffy and his hands sore but that was a weakness and weaknesses were to be pushed away and ignored, ignored, ignored). Germany stopped. A cough rumbled in his chest. The dirt track he had been following had given way to a gently slopping path and a house that was as daunting as it was grand. He had reached his destination.

It was unguarded. No blockades or armed patrols. This baffled Germany until he realised – not for the first time – that Russia was truly unaware of what was taking place. He inwardly winced. He would be a lair if he said this wasn't paining him. Russia was--- Had been, his friend. All of them had... At some point or another.

Germany tried to lapse back into his usual manner of thinking. This was war. An invasion. There was no place for friends – it was simply who was on your side and who wasn't. No contradictions. No fear. Just tactful, coordinated moves that made sense.

He stood a little taller. His gait, a fraction wider. There was no pause between him approaching the front of the house and him raising the heal of his rifle to smash against the hinges of the front door.

The impact rippled up his arms and rattled his shoulders, but he didn't stop. Every move felt automatic and instinctive, like he was just a pawn being used and used again. Nausea set in his stomach and as the last of the door frame broke away he felt positively vile. Though---
At the same time---
Oh, he couldn't explain it, couldn't help it---
Never had he felt so powerful.

Crack. An expertly placed kick bought the door smashing down.

How cruel it was, this high that conflict induced. A curse that ran through the countries. In his ears rang the sound of gunshots and shouts, and in his eyes the sight of what was to come, but it still didn't bring him back down.

Germany entered the hall slowly. Carefully. His normally shining black boots were filthy, and he left a trail of mud as he walked further into Russia's household. He did not remember it being so cold and dark. The last time he had been here, there was a certain warmth to the air and... Yes... Music had been squeaking from an old gramophone somewhere down the hall. Of course, this had been long before World War I... He shook his head. Focus! He couldn't make a fool of himself - he had insisted that he do this alone (he... couldn't exactly picture someone such as Italy helping him out with something like this) and the last thing he needed was to trip up.

Gloved fingers gripped tightly around the polished wood of the gun. He needed to get this just right.

[i... i don't even know. this turned out way more angsty then i wanted it to. also whenever i look at the title i just burst out laughing.]

[Russia]

Nighttime was always so quiet and peaceful, even when it stretched on into the early morning. The darkness was a reminder that he didn't need to be awake every time he stirred, especially on a day like today where he'd been given the rare approval from his boss to stay home. His boss enjoyed working him to the bone and then some, so a day of relief and relaxation was more than welcome to a very fatigued Russia, for once not dragged out to be used as a target for military drills.

Rolling over, he woke up for the millionth time that night. Sleep never wanted to stay with him for long these days, always fleeting when he grasped for it as he pined for rest. Even once he'd captured it, it would only let him remain under its heavy influence for an hour or so at most.

With a weak groan, he opened one eye, under which dark circles of insomnia had begun to form, staring at the ticking alarm clock on his nightstand. The second-hand slowly flicked its way around the face, mocking him with both the earliness of the hour and the tireless way it slogged through its duties while Russia lay there feeling useless and weak in comparison. If only he could run on battery or gears like the clock. If he could just be periodically wound up and sent back to work instead of wearing down like the organic being he was, then maybe he would be treated with respect as opposed to some low-life only useful in amusing or serving whatever needs his boss may have had. Russia muttered a few words of jealous hate to the ticking irritant before rolling back over to try and curl up properly in the warm cocoon of blankets and quilts that kept winter at bay.

Loud taps sounded faintly in his ears, like someone was angrily knocking on his front door, the sound dissipating some by the time it reached him on the third floor where he slept. They could wait. It wasn't even six in the morning. Even Germany wouldn't be up this early with his strict schedule. Whoever wanted into his house was either crazy or very rude. Maybe it was Poland. Poland did like to annoy him.

It didn't matter, whoever it was could just wait. Russia was trying to sleep, as difficult as it was. Lithuania could get the door- oh right... Everyone was gone today. He'd forgotten. Everyone had some sort of business today, conveniently, and it was probably because they all knew he would be home today. In that case, the caller could just go away.

CRACK!

Or come in. That worked too.

Eyes snapping wide open at hearing what very well may have been the destruction of his front door, if the slightly muffled noise was any sort of indicator, Russia sat up with a start. Who could be so insistent? What could they want if they were willing to very literally break into his house. Maybe it was just a burglar, he thought, unwillingly hauling himself from the warmth of his bed.

He shivered as he slid a bathrobe no over his pajamas, not bothering with slippers. If he couldn't put up with cold wood flooring by now, he was a poor excuse of a northern nation. He stuck out his tongue in annoyance as he wrapped his scarf around his throat, not wanting to be seen without it, even with an otherwise completely disheveled appearance.

Yawning, he closed his bedroom door behind him before he shuffled stiffly down the hallway, not unlike a walking corpse, intent on going downstairs to see what all of the ruckus was about that interrupted his probably much-needed beauty sleep.

[thatotherguy]

The light spilling from the broken door cast twisted shadows across the hall. His own was long and warped, dancing across furniture as it moved with him. Slowly. Patiently. Every so often it would flicker and merge in with the darkness, and as Germany moved deeper into the house it disappeared completely. It was something that caught his eye, but not anything he payed proper attention to. Eventually, the hall expanded out and he reached the main stairwell of the house. Germany paused. The silence was crushing, almost painfully so, sitting on his chest like a stone. He wanted to make noise. To make his presence known. Both Russian and German played on his tongue, but in the end he settled with the latter. His own tongue; if Russia didn't understand then he would simply repeat himself as many times as was necessary. It did occur to him, briefly, that a shout would warn the other nation he was coming, but if he really cared about that he wouldn't have gone and kicked the front door down.

He inhaled.

"Russland! Wake up, and make yourself known! You're under arrest!"

The voice was cold and sharp, cracking through the air and up the steps like a bullet, slicing the quiet in two. He did not follow after his shout though - rather, he held back, hovering a few feet away from where the stairs met the floor. There was no telling, no knowing, what could happen if he simply charged up there. He needed to think. To wait, even if it was only for a minute or so. If Russia showed himself like he should, then this would go over exactly as planned. Swiftly and without so much as a single fault. That is, if Russia saw some sense and came without a struggle. If not (which was by far more likely), of course... Well. He had his plans, and they would be carried out; if force was needed then there was no helping it.

His footsteps rang against the floor as he steadily moved forward, peering up past the polished banister and into the gloomy stairwell. Nothing. Just more shadows that blended faultlessly together. Germany's eyes narrowed. His tone changed. He was getting terse now.

"Are you up there? Do you hear me?!"

[Russia]

"Russland!"

Having groggily begun descending the stairs to the second floor, Russia wobbled to a stop at hearing his name... in German. Wait. Not many would call him that and even in the fog of an uninvited early morning, Russia knew to whom exactly that particular voice belonged. That voice, while strict, had been a welcome sound to his ears once upon a time. Why should this morning be any different? The tone... The tone was what was different. A command hid in the very utterance of his own name. Why? A better question, though, would be if he asked why Germany was in his house so early after he'd just heard what could very well have been his door being smashed to pieces.

He received his answer soon enough, flinching back at the return of that dominant, overpowering tone.

"Wake up, and make yourself known! You're under arrest!"

Russia repeated the sounds to himself on a silent tongue, trying to translate quickly in his mind. "Wach... auf und..." It drug on for a moment with his sluggish mind. He knew enough German from time spent around Germany, Austria, and Prussia, but sometimes he was a little bit slow with it.

Eyes jumping wide with understanding, Russia froze on the steps. Under arrest? Why would he be under arrest? This was his own land and Germany was his friend. That made no sense. Friends didn't arrest other friends for laughs, at least not without asking them first otherwise the game would make no sense at all.

No.

Wait.

Germany was serious. This wasn't a game. Why else would he have broken down Russia's front door to force his way into the older nation's home? That wasn't fair. What had he done to deserve this? He'd not attacked his friend in this conflict, even though other Allied Powers were encouraging him to do so. In fact, he even gave Germany armaments in agreement that neither of them would harm the other.
Friends...

Maybe the others were right. Maybe he really didn't have friends. Maybe he really was only any good for being used. Golden Horde was right.

Russia felt a pang of pain in his heart, unsure whether it was physical or imagined this time around. "Германия..." he mumbled, looking blankly at the palm of his own hand, examining it for no reason other than he was at a loss for anything else to do. "Людьвиг, почему это ты делаешь?"

"Are you up there? Do you hear me?!"

Carefully, determined to retain his anonymity in Germany's awareness another floor down, Russia backtracked up the steps to the third floor landing. Tiptoeing his way back to his own room wasn't exactly an option as he was not quite the most graceful, but he could shuffle back. Quickly ducking into the room, he slid the door shut, trying to keep the lock from clicking loudly when he secured the door. Any minute now, he knew Germany would be up those stairs and coming after him.

While he himself was larger than Germany, he didn't want to have to hurt someone he considered a friend, even if they clearly didn't feel the same way. It would be better to hide, he thought, wishing almost that Germany would just go home and they could forget about this.

Kneeling beside his bed, he pulled out the pipe he kept under it, having lacked the foresight to keep his rifle nearby and not wanting to pull his handgun from the nightstand. Russia didn't want to shoot Germany. Maybe, if Germany pursued the idea of arresting him, he could just knock him out if he restrained himself...

With a near-silent sigh, Russia sat on the edge of his bed, facing the door with pipe in his grasp as though idly waiting.

[thatotherguy]

The moment had passed, but the silence remained. Even the wind that had been rattling at the window frames settled down. Germany gritted his teeth. Up on the second floor landing, nothing stirred. Fine. If Russia wanted to play it this way then so be it. He could still adapt. The other nation had been given a chance and had opted to remain silent.
Or perhaps this was just a waste of time. Perhaps he should have foregone his hesitancy and dived straight into the deep end. A fight was inevitable. Why hold it off? He was well armed and could easily take care of himself. Running up those stairs and simply disregarding caution would not be a problem. Germany considered this for a second. When he eventually started to move up the stairs, he shook his head a little. No. That would be foolish. It would be much more beneficial if he took his time from here on out. And... if he didn't kick anymore doors down.

Upstairs was alarmingly similar to downstairs. Dark, spacious and seemingly empty. Germany lowered his firearm to his side, treading slowly down the hall. He still wanted this to be over and done with as quickly as possible, but with all these rooms...

"Russia," He called again, this time in English. "Do not make this difficult. If you can hear me, then come out! "

As he spoke, he opened a door on his immediate left. Nothing. Just an empty guest bedroom. He very nearly slammed the door in frustration, but restrained at the last moment.

[Russia]

Steps could be heard in the building, creaking up the stairs and alerting a paranoid homeowner to the location of the intruder.

На втором этаже...

Russia leaned forward a little bit on the edge of his bed, watching the door carefully as he listened and trying to keep a smile on his face despite the fact that now... his "friend" was coming to "arrest" him. Who knew what that truly meant. Maybe he'd be shot. Maybe he'd be lynched. Maybe he'd be beaten and taken into custody just like Germany had professed earlier. Whatever punishment it was for being the naive one in their agreement--actually having trusted the other nation--was probably now exacerbated by the fact that Russia had not come when called, not desiring to be Germany's well-trained dog.

"Russia."

На третьем этаже...

Russia recoiled a little at hearing his name called relatively close. Maybe he should have just headed upstairs again when he had the chance to either stow himself away on the fourth floor or higher in the attic amongst the myriad of boxes and containers with their knickknacks. That might have been wiser... or that might have just been forestalling the inevitable of being caught and forced to stand his ground.

"Do not make this difficult. If you can hear me, then come out!"

His guess that the act of cowardice only had only served to anger his "friend" further seemed to be true. No, Russia wouldn't keep running, but he'd wait. Germany would have to come to him if he wanted him badly enough. He felt his smile cement as he sat back again, more comfortably on the edge of the bed with the pipe lounging lazily against his shoulder when he heard a door farther down the hall open.

He was not going to submit and be a whipping boy again, let alone to nation much younger than himself. Golden Horde was long since dead, set to remain the only one ever to succeed at forcing Великая Русь to kneel.

[thatotherguy]

After about three minutes of quietly opening and closing doors, two things became apparent. One, he had no idea where Russia actually was, or if he was even in the house at all, and two, he was getting rather sick of discovering nothing but more empty rooms. The last of his patience was starting to run dry, with his temper showing in its place. Why did that fool feel the need to make this so difficult? Germany took out his frustration on yet another door, not bothering to hold back a slam this time. Again, an empty room.
The frame rattled slightly, and the sound bounced down the hall. Good. Maybe that would get the message home; that he was near by and no longer in the mood for this ridiculous game of hide and seek.

Germany turned on his heels, a scowl across his face. The rifle was still firmly gripped in one hand, but now, if anything, it was starting to feel like nothing more then nuisance. After all, would he really require it? In taking it, he had only planned to use it as a form of intimidation... Though, as he reached out for what would the last door on the third floor, he couldn't help but wonder... Wonder how nice it would be to just plant a bullet firmly in his "friends" head and get this all over and done with. Germany felt a bitter taste swell on his tongue. Blood pounded in his ears. An inadvertent shudder ran up his spine.

Is that really what you want?

He opened the door slowly. Almost casually.
So, this was it.

Russia was sitting on the bed, clad in pajamas and a bathrobe. It was him he noticed first, then the faucet pipe resting against his shoulder.

"Guten Morgen, Russland. I have been looking for you, don't you know? "

[Russia]

Russia heard doors being slammed in frustration as footsteps got closer and closer. Soon enough, it looked like Germany would find his door. Fine. That was the point. Russia would just wait patiently while Germany threw his little fit.

He'd expected his bedroom door to be kicked down or at least knocked off his hinges, but the careful turn of the knob and easy push open were a surprise. Russia smiled as he thought that Germany must have been restraining himself, especially with that snazzy-looking gun in his hands.
He could almost bet it was getting difficult for Germany to not just level that rifle at him. Russia didn't care particularly if Germany had lost his patience, only widening his own grin to spite his assailant.

"Guten Morgen, Russland. I have been looking for you, don't you know?"

Russia giggled as he shifted the wait of the pipe on his shoulder. "Доброе утро, Германия~ Так я слышал~ Dit you not know I was sleepink? How root~"

He hummed, crossing one knee almost daintily over the other in blatant disregard for the grave severity of the situation. He could very well "die" if Germany snapped, but... since when had Russia really taken his own health into account when acting? Anyone who had seen him interact with his liquor cabinet or a pack of cigarettes would know his own health was not really on his list of concerns.

"I was waitink for you, silly~"

[thatotherguy]

Germany remained expressionless in spite of Russia's cheery smile. How typical. The frivolous, borderline casual, way in which Russia was handling the situation felt like something he should have expected. Germany knew how to keep a straight face but it was more then obvious just how frustrated he was. However, the weight of the gun in his hand reminded him that he was still the one in power. He alone could choose how this game was to be played. It acted as a stabiliser. At least, for the time being.

"Доброе утро, Германия~ Так я слышал~ Dit you not know I was sleepink? How root~"

Russian was not a language that took long for him to decipher. They had spent enough time around each other to, at most, know the very basics of each others respective diction. Restraining the urge to scoff was surprisingly difficult, though. Here they were, exchanging early morning pleasantries, with one of them holding a rifle and the other a faucet pipe! Still, it felt natural to continue in this half polite half mocking manner... Even if it was somewhat bizarre.

"You will have to excuse me. Of course I didn't expect you to be up at this time. You never where that... diligent, I suppose."

He watched Russia closely as he spoke. His own expression had set as something unreadable - perhaps with the exception of his eyes, as he was aware that they must be glaring something fierce. Russia, though, just looked... Well. Certainly not like someone who had the threat of a gun pointing in their face.

"Ah... How kind of you. Thankfully, your wait is now over."

[Russia]

Russia's eyes flicked from Germany's to gun in his "friend's" hands and then back up. It was there, a blatant threat on his life despite their supposed immortality. He wasn't scared, not of Germany himself. He wasn't the real danger. The real danger was what their bosses would do or have them do. Theirs bosses were both clearly madmen. Yet instead of dealing with things themselves, they let their nations handle it, sent to do their bidding like dogs. It appeared that today was Germany's day to go play fetch.

Even with the danger in the air, obvious to even the most mentally handicapped, Russia did his best to pay no apparent mind to it. Drawing attention to it would only make it worse. Or perhaps, Russia's own avoidance my further aggravate the situation. If he didn't point out and acknowledge that Germany had the power in the current instance, that might have just further pissed off the younger nation and upped the chance that Russia's day would end with a bullet or twenty in his skull. Then again, it was Germany's own problem if he couldn't control his trigger finger and ended up killing a "once dear friend" in the process. At least Russia wasn't the one at risk of mourning a mistake. Even so, Russia made no moves to admit anything unusual about the situation.

"You will have to excuse me. Of course I didn't expect you to be up at this time. You never where that... diligent, I suppose."

Of course, of course. Germany was always the type to be up at the crack of dawn. That was just the way of it. Germany always seemed to be the most straight-laced of the nations who had to have everything neat and prim, not a hair out of place. It made sense that he lived near Austria. If only they saw their similarities as opposed to their differences, Russia thought, still holding the pipe against his shoulder as though nothing were out of order. It was logical to assume that Germany would consider Russia being asleep at five in the morning laziness on the older nation's part. "Maybe some off us like to rest when we are not backstabbink~" he teased, waving Germany's remark off dismissively, wrist falling limp at the end.

"Ah... How kind of you. Thankfully, your wait is now over."

It was funny, Russia thought, that Germany was seemingly playing along with the gag despite his more than crystal clear annoyance. That must have really taken some patience. Russia giggled at the thought of stretching Germany's nerves to the breaking point even though it could potentially cost him everything.

"Oh, good~ I was gettink boret off sittink here~" With his non-supportive hand, he patted the length of the pipe as though it were a child that needed to be calmed. "Hm~ So I wonder what game it is you will be havink us play today~ Will you be tellink me or will I be havink to guess~?"

[thatotherguy]

The quick waver of Russia's gaze did not go overlooked – and why should it have, when it was so glaringly obvious? It was towards the gun, of course, that sat silent and still between the two of them. A fat, black mass that leached on both their nerves; perhaps even on Germany a little more so. It no longer felt like a stabiliser, more like a weight.
How ironic, that this seemed to be the case. That he was the one more afflicted by the current situation. There was no denying it, however. Danger buzzed all around. What a nuisance it was, having it bite at the back of his neck in particular. Slowly, surely tugging at his energy. Feasting on his forbearance.
But there is always a cure for a parasitic atmosphere and, while it might leave one feeling drained and queasy, that cure quite simply entailed snubbing any attempts at brining it into consideration. An elementary diagnosis, really. Turn your back to it and it is out of sight. Out of mind. Though, by pushing a very much immediate threat to the rearmost part of his conscience, Germany wasn't doing himself much of a favour. The leech might have been gone, but the wound was still there. Raw and glistening and simply dripping with indignation, showing in the tone of his voice and the twitch of his hand. Yet still the wound was wrapped in bandages, and he forced himself to get over it. Once again, he ignored a very obvious issue – that he was suppressing everything now, seemingly needlessly, for this oafs benefit. Anger, frustration and alarm simmered on the surface but the surface is where they remained. Germany refused to let things boil over.

"Maybe some off us like to rest when we are not backstabbink~"

Well, that was certainly a bold remark. If it wasn't for the teasing delivery, it could have very well been the last one Russia ever uttered again. Germany ran a string of sharp comebacks and retorts through his mind but failed to actually spit any of them out. Rather, he continued to remain relatively placid though, for the briefest of moments, his upper lip twitched into a snarl. That was it. He didn't move a muscle still, not even an inch. ( Now perhaps it was the perplexing feeling of a chain tightening around his neck that had held him back, or perhaps it was simply nothing. Nothing at all. Just his head, playing tricks with him. )

"Hm~ So I wonder what game it is you will be havink us play today~ Will you be tellink me or will I be havink to guess~?"

Tsk. So Russia was going to remain incorrigible then, and this game was going to played out after all.

For the first time, Germany smiled. He picked up his shoulders and took a step further into the room. And then another. And another. Only when Russia was nearly within touching distance did he stop.

The figurative wound in his chest was starting to throb. How bizarre then, that his smile seemed to grow till it was more a smirk then anything else. He could play along with ease. It wouldn't be a trouble, not at all.

“Oh... But Russia. Dearest Russia. That is the whole point of the game, yes? To guess.”

Germany drummed his fingers lightly against the gun. One finger falling sharply and precisely after the other. Maybe things would go to plan, regardless of Russia's behaviour.

“Who will make the first move? The first step?” His voice had dropped to something low and treacherous. “The first blow, and the last?"

Of course, he was already sure of the answer to these questions. And that is why he grinned.

[Russia]

Continuing to smile as he watched the other man step towards him almost to the range where he didn't even need to use the added reach of the pipe in his arms to make contact, Russia didn't bother with reacting. That would have been too easy and some sort of reaction of fear was probably what the clearly... less-than-happy man wanted.

Closer. Closer. Closer.

What, was Germany really going to threaten him at a point-blank range with that gun of his? Silly man-- When Russia really thought about it, that was all they were. They were just both men. Men who couldn't grow old and die, and had to some degree strength that the usual mortal men had no hope of possessing. Still, a point-blank range shot from that rifle would have not felt the least bit pleasant. Perhaps, if Germany fired, he'd hurt himself on the recoil. Unlikely though, Russia thought, realizing that such a good soldier as his "opponent" would probably already have braced himself for such a trivial thing, especially since they were already so far into the game, whatever game they were playing.

"Oh... But Russia. Dearest Russia."

He had to wonder if Germany was just twisting the knife of betrayal further to add more pain with this mock continuation of their friendship. A worthy goal to be sure, since it was a very short list of people who really had the capacity to even scratch at Russia's feelings let alone grind them into a miserable dust, pack the dust in with blackpowder and light the resulting abomination mixture ablaze. Russia felt his smile stretch slightly, almost wondering if it were possible to break.

Still, the urge to reach out and gently pat his "friend's" arm before pulling him into a tight hug had to be suppressed. Russia didn't want to have to fight him, to have to hurt him just to stay alive, but it was beginning to look like having a choice wasn't really an option. His hand twitched around the pipe, as though it had been about to let go and reach for the other nation. Германия, почему это ты делаешь мне?

"That is the whole point of the game, yes? To guess."

Russia tilted his head to the side, humming a bit in thought as he continued to watch and listen as Germany went on with their little charade.

"Who will make the first move? The first step?"

That shift in tone was unsettling, but Russia cemented his indifferently cheerful expression in place so as not to betray the swirling worry in his stomach that there was no way to walk away from this without some sort of bloodshed. Germany had taken the initiative up until this point, seemingly aggressive initiative, so Russia wouldn't doubt that it would continue to be Germany who carried the motion of this game of theirs forward.

"The first blow, and the last?"

But Russia wouldn't allow that to be the case. Surprises were the theme of the morning, specifically with his invasion alarm clock that came with doors being opened via the abuse of a rifle. It was his turn to surprise Germany and maybe if he moved first... horrific results could have been avoided.

"I think," he began. The elder nation shifted his weight, leaning forward and finally freeing one hand the pipe he cradled against his shoulder, he reached out with it. Palm open, he set it gingerly against his guest's wrist, the one nowhere near the trigger of the beastly machine in his hands. "Maybe you shoult be puttink that away~" It was a long-shot that perhaps keeping a cool head would save either of them, but he could try... and hope that he'd taken Germany enough off guard to not shoot him at such a range. Nothing would take back the pain of being betrayed in the first place, but maybe making the entire situation worse was preventable...

It still baffled him how they'd gotten here. They'd been friends and nothing really seemed all that out of place, at least nothing he'd noticed at the time. He should have seen it coming, perhaps, especially if that clever German had been planning this sort of attack all along and just wanted to make his job easier by getting on Russia's good side.

Russia was now stuck very literally staring down the barrel of the gun and the fearsome pipe in his arms felt like less of a defense than the show of kindness he offered. He'd thought earlier of maybe just smacking Germany upside the head with it, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt him even consider it, especially not when he was looking right at the face of a person he would have considered protecting like a family member.