“HEY!” Russia shouted, running over to America and North, where the latter was being berated by the former.

“Oh look, the daughter of the Commie who can't be bothered to show up is here,” America snarled, whirling on her heel to face Russia.

North glanced over at Russia, his–uncovered and intact–charoite-colored eye meeting her amber ones. He raised his eyebrows, blinking a couple times.

Whatever the message was, Russia didn't get it. She was a bit too focused holding her tongue as America continued to make comments on her mother, soon stepping into dangerous waters with her father.

“You know, I've always wondered why the Commie looked so sickly, and then I met you, and I realized it must run in the family. Hell, it even ran in your father's family,” America chuckled, oblivious to how Russia's hands had clenched into fists. “Such a shame-”

“I am not related to my father,” Russia snarled, stepping up to America and towering over her by five centimeters. “By name and by blood, yes. But we. Are. Not. Family. Just like how Choson doesn't acknowledge his father.”

North stiffened, pursing his lips as a hand twitched to go up and brush his eyepatch, the movement didn't go unnoticed by Russia.

America sputtered, backing up a bit. “W-w-well-”

“And!” Russia continued, poking America's chest with her index finger. “If I hear that you are pardoning more Nazis I will personally slit. Your. Throat.”

America paled as Russia stormed off after that last threat. And Russia, did not plan to renege on that promise.