[[ OOC: I hope this is okay? It did say to just go ahead and jump in, so... I guess if there's a problem, I'll remove my post, but... o.o Also, rusty writing is sooo rusty D:
EDIT: Homm, well, I asked the moderator what I should do, and she said that doubles were fine for now and to just try to go on and tell her if there's a problem. o.o So...
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[OOC: The post in question is here. IIRC, the mod did say that she didn't want any more doubles, but allowed in Colonial!America because he and Alfred behave quite differently. However, Soviet!Ivan and Russian Federation!Ivan are virtually the same person... >_> I suppose you could just wait for her to come or PM her]
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*smiles*
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*pats his shoulder*
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...
*first it distracts him, next his interest is piqued*
...?
*very quietly (well aware of the already-limited privacy), he finds his way to the kitchen entrance, and looks* ... *bottle. should've known.*
[ If you'd prefer threading in prose-style, I'd be happy to! :D ]
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Even if he knew the Swede was there, he probably wouldn't have said anything; as it stood, he wass already playing with the bottle again, the cap lying useless on the table while he allowed it to rock back and forth dangerously. Remarkably, there were no puddles or drops of the liquid on the table, though he did pause every now and again to lick spilled alcohol from his fingers, humming in pleasure.
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It seemed disarming, in an eerie way. As though this moment was tantamount to the whole of Ivan's being, and not one had the right to refute it. This was Berwald's first impression, though in fewer trains of thought.
All the same... he folded his arms, strode past the table, and to the coffee-maker. Intent, as always, on getting through such a tenuous little scene in as few words as possible. He didn't bother glancing at Ivan, didn't imagine Ivan would benefit from a nod of acknowledgment -- hoped not.
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"You... are... Sweden, isn't that right?" he suddenly asked brightly, licking his lips for the last few drops of alcohol.
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THERE ARE TWO OF THEM
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...
H-hi Ivan...
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