Portugal was drinking wine as he enjoyed the calm day. He had gone for a walk by Doca de Belém, talked with Lisbon for a while, made soup for a sick Evora and had settled down in the dining area with his wine bottle. He felt as though nothing could interrupt this moment.

KNOCK KNOCK

his brows furrowed in confusion. He didn’t expect any guests today but he shrugged it off, not minding much. He put his wine down and stood up, walking over to the door and opening it

“Olá?”