Prologue

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London is quite a wet place. There's pretty much a downpour of rain every week, sometimes days at a time. It calms during summer, but during winter it's awful. It just so happens to be winter right now. Or at least the beginning of it. The rain is pounding hard at the ground. It spits harshly against the window.

Britian is staring mindlessly at the window, getting hypnotized by the sound of the droplets. The single room he sat in, an upsatirs living room, was the only warm area in the house. The rest was left alone to the cold air. He, too, was left alone is his large house. What does one person need a whole space to themselves for?

Amidst the rain, the footsteps of someone stamped impatiently at the ground. Britian looked to the guy outside, who held on tghtly to a ushanka and seemed to struggle seeing through the rain. He realised immediately who it was. While he wouldn't say anything or make himself known, it would be quite rude not to. And Britain is not a rude person in the slightest. He has been taught to only follow the best of courtesy, and the best of courtesy right now was to invite the soaking wet Russian walking past his house. The window is tugged open and, with his overly, odd posh accent, he called out through the harsh sounds of the rain.

"Are you alright down there?"
The sudden voice caused Soviet to flinch as he turned his head, searching for the source of the noise. He hesitantly looked up to the small, British man calling out from his window. When he noticed who it was, he started to walk off. Britain is that capitalist pig's father, after all.
"Would you like to come in until the rain dies down?" Britain offered.
Soviet muttered something which fell silent to the weather and glared at the tea boy with a certain amount of malice. He nodded, slowly.
Britain wasted no time to rush down the steps and open his front door. His gaze up immediately, seeing that Soviet had already made his way to said door, soaking wet. The door opened further and Britian waved his hand as Soviet walked his. His drenched trench coat dripped a puddle of water to the floor and so too did his ushanka when he wringged it out impolitely on the wooden floor.
Britian closed the door, muting the sounds of the weather.

"Would you like some tea?"

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