Serbia groaned as he stirred awake, his head pounding like a war drum. His eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the blinding white light reflecting off sterile walls. The room was empty, save for a metal door on one side and a slumped figure on the floor near the opposite wall. He recognized it immediately: Bosnia.

"Fantastic," he muttered, scowling as he sat up. His muscles tensed with immediate irritation. Of all the places to wake up, why here, and with him?

Standing, he ignored Bosnia's unconscious form and made his way to the door. His first instinct was to grab the handle and yank, but it didn’t budge. He twisted, pulled, pushed—nothing. The door didn’t so much as rattle.

“Whoever did this, I’m going to—” He gritted his teeth, slammed his shoulder into the door, and barked in pain when the impact did more damage to him than the unyielding metal. Frustration bubbled over as he kicked it. Hard. Still nothing.

Turning, he scanned the room for anything useful but came up empty-handed. A low groan caught his attention, and his eyes snapped to Bosnia. Serbia stiffened.

Bosnia’s head lolled to the side as he began to wake. Serbia’s blood boiled instantly. “You,” he hissed under his breath, taking quick strides toward the waking figure.

Before Bosnia could fully open his eyes, Serbia grabbed him by the collar and hauled him up to a half-sitting position. ”WHAT KIND OF GAME ARE YOU PLAYING, HUH!?” he snarled, his voice echoing in the enclosed space. ”YOU THINK LOCKING ME UP WITH YOU IS FUNNY!?” (Bosnia did NOT do that btw.)