open starter, modern era.
His hands are pushed into his pockets as he passes through the various hallways of the designated meeting location. Usually he doesn't come to these summits and he remembers why. Too many nations, many of whom he had less than stellar history with, and none of them taking him seriously. Not that he wasn't used to it nor that he expected differently. The dissolution of his country hadn't exactly helped his image, and even before, the main attention he received had been negative. He'd learned to deal with it, accepting it and, hell, even relishing in it. Anything was better than nothing after all. But these types of meetings always left him to face the grim reality of things and he hated dealing with his own feelings. He rounded a corner, hoping to find his way to the cafeteria in this maze of a building and unceremoniously bumped into someone, falling onto the floor in a manner that must've looked less than graceful.
