Another year, another winter, another Christmas, I suppose. Another early Christmas.
Ten years. It's a long time, isn't it? I should know. Hmph. I'd rather have ten years of amnesia than ten years here.
[There's a click as something pops open, and a tinkling little melody begins to play; underneath it is barely audible whirring, like the sound of
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Russia stands around awkwardly trying his best to suppress the snarky commentary.]
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