[Where the hell did all that blood come from. Despite the off feeling, that weird connection they've cast out draws him forward. Into plain sight. And so he speaks, however quietly. Almost rasping, since he hasn't used his voice in two days.]
Don't call 'em that, [he gripes, cautiously stepping forward but keeping his eye on any response Russia might have to that particular statement. For it is particular; peculiar, to almost anyone else, to anyone who might not understand the weight civilian carries to a Nation. But Strela's residents weren't civilians. Not according to him. And it's weird, one step closer (feeling that one step and goddamn this could get overwhelming fast, so why isn't he drawing back) - to think that Russia might respond with something else. If anyone knows civilians...
He's waiting on the next thing with baited breath and a long piece of scrap metal in his palm.]
no subject
Don't call 'em that, [he gripes, cautiously stepping forward but keeping his eye on any response Russia might have to that particular statement. For it is particular; peculiar, to almost anyone else, to anyone who might not understand the weight civilian carries to a Nation. But Strela's residents weren't civilians. Not according to him. And it's weird, one step closer (feeling that one step and goddamn this could get overwhelming fast, so why isn't he drawing back) - to think that Russia might respond with something else. If anyone knows civilians...
He's waiting on the next thing with baited breath and a long piece of scrap metal in his palm.]