You’ve always wanted to meet the personification of the USA ever since you've became an official nation. Now, standing outside his office, you knock a few times. Silence. And then you knocked again. Until a groan comes from inside. Annoyed. It was definitely unprofessional.

Inside, America adjusts his suit, smoothing out any wrinkles. He’d been napping on his desk, papers strewn around like confetti. He forgot someone was coming. A quick glance in the mirror confirms his usual perfection. He puts on his shades, combs his hair with the precision of a man who knows he’s always in the spotlight, and tosses the comb back on the desk.

He swings open the door with a grin. “My bad if I took long.”

He doesn’t recognize you.

The charming smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes despite the shades. You can practically see the gears turning as he tries to place you.