Prussia stopped in the doorway of the room. He looked straight at Russia, who only smiled.
"You're finally here, GDR," Russia smiled still, "I was about to send Latvia to go and find you." Russia motioned towards the chair to his left.
Prussia stepped forward without a word and sat next to Russia, across from Lithuania, with Poland on his left. He saw the blond country shudder as he sat next to him. Again, he noticed Lithuania glance at him, but look away as soon as their eyes met. He looked over at Poland, who's fists were clenching and unclenching under the table.
"Lithuania?" Russia motioned to him.
Lithuania stood, picking up Russia's bowl and bringing it to the pot of soup. He dished Prussia's food last, walking around the table to set it at his place without a word. Prussia saw him flinch when Russia grabbed his wrist, hard.
"You should have served our new guest first, Myshka." (little mouse)
"I-I'm sor-"
"You should give him your plate in exchange for your rudeness, don't you think?"
Lithuania tensed his jaw, but nodded.
Russia let go of his wrist.
"He doesn't have to-"
"There's no reason for you to get involved," Russia smiled at Prussia kindly, "After all, you are our important guest."
Prussia noticed Toris wince at Russia's words. He looked up at Lithuania, trying to silently apologize as Toris set his plate in front of Prussia and went back to sit at his place opposite him.
"Now, everyone, eat." Ivan smiled.
Prussia looked down at the bowls in front of him. The soup was a dark purple-red, with some kind of onion-like vegetable floating in it. He was hungry, but he wasn't sure he was that hungry. He glanced over at Russia, who noticed his confusion.
"It's called 'Borsht', beet soup. Here," Russia reached for a dish of white foam and handed it to Prussia, "It's better with the sour cream."
Sour cream in soup? In hot soup? The idea sounded fairly repulsive.
"You'll get used to it," Russia's smile seemed genuine this time, and he certainly seemed to be enjoying the dish himself.
Prussia took some of the sour cream and dropped it into one of the bowls in front of him. He glanced up at Lithuania, who was visibly trying to avoid watching anyone else eat. He thought about handing his bowl back to him, but thought better of it. He had to choose his battles. Russia seemed to be a good mood, at least towards him, and trying something didn't seem worth the risk to him at the moment. He lifted a spoonful of the soup to his lips. It was better than he'd expected it to be, tart, with a bit of spice. He wasn't sure about the sour cream, but it wasn't terrible. He looked over to Russia and nodded.
"Not half bad." He shrugged.
"Credit where it's due." Russia motioned towards Ukraine, who smiled.
"Danke-um..." he stopped himself, trying to remember what Ukraine taught him, "Spatzeiba, Ukraine." She giggled. He'd said it wrong again, he was sure of that. He noticed Belarus looking away from everyone else. "And, to you as well, Belarus."
