Setting: The entrance.
Time: Night 11.
Summary: A confused Canada finds himself in the house.
Warnings: None so far.
The only thing Canada knew for certain right now was that he was not in his kitchen.
The nation stared bewilderedly at the heavy oak door before him. He'd simply found himself here, and he couldn't think of a single reason how or why his location seemed to change within a mere second. The last thing he remembered was he was about to sit down for breakfast with his polar bear, and not even the mass of white fur was anywhere in sight.
"K-- Kuma...?" Canada tried calling weakly, looking around and fidgeting with the material of his red hoodie nervously. This place had a bad atmosphere, an air that made him want to wrench open the door and flee all the way back home. Not that he hadn't already attempted that, but the door he was standing in front of just wouldn't budge no matter how hard he tried.
For about the third time in his short while spent in the strange building, he was sure he saw something out the corner of his eye. But-- maybe it was a trick of the mind again. Or was there a speck on his glasses?
With a sigh, he took off his glasses and cleaned the lenses with his sleeve whilst trying to get his thoughts straight. This just seriously couldn't be happening.
And, truth be told-- he was sort of worried no one would realise he was gone...