((Yeah sorry ;v;))

((I'm not mad - stuff happens. Oooh, shiny new look~))

"I must admit that I do not know." Ivan sighed quietly, more than a little baffled, as Alfred's hair settled from its brief ruffling. "If we were dealing with ordinary amnesia, I might suppose it to be a - how to put it... metaphor of the mind for some big argument. If we are thinking about other lives, it gets more... tangled." Pausing, he tried to make sense of what he'd been told before, when the dream had first been mentioned to him. He smiled wanly when he felt fingers twining with his own, reassured by the contact. He felt uneasy about trying to unravel the mysteries of their memories, for some reason, but with someone nearby who was triggering them? Well, it was clear that this would bug them until they had some sort of an answer. "Your dream was - British Empire in time, da? Rebellion? What if your past self grew up with an Englishman, but you drifted onto opposite sides of the conflict? It was a time that set brother against brother..." Ivan mumbled, a kind of crawling feeling sliding across him as he spoke.

He didn't look away from Alfred, even though he felt uneasy about what he was saying. That would be - a thing not done, with this person who seemed to, perhaps, have mended his heart twice. Heartmend... Is there a hole in his heart also? He wondered, inching a little closer himself. The thought made him feel kind of protective, and concerned that the tea-drinking eyebrows-man might be hurting Alfred simply by existing. Surely, there had to be something that could be done to resolve this? "I am also getting the feeling that I know him, but my dream seemed to be in a completely different time - closer to the modern... How many times have we been alive, I wonder?" He breathed, alarmed at the notion, before wincing. He hadn't been able to keep from saying it the moment he thought of it, but he was now wishing he hadn't thought it, let alone voiced it. There was pain, but it was a mind-pain - like grief, but somehow of a different flavour, and a distinct urge to stop thinking about it. He didn't realise it, but his eyes had glazed over slightly, leaving his lavender gaze seeming somewhat shuttered, and he was holding Alfred's hand a little too tightly.

Alfred nodded a little bit again, ending up gently rubbing the other's hand with his thumb. "It does get...really mixed up when you factor in possible past lives, doesn't it?" he murmured softly, his shoulders relaxing a little bit as the situation was explained in a very much plausible way. He nodded a little bit again, not having really noticed how much he was beginning to repeat that motion. "That's...a really good way to explain it actually, yeah," he said softly, then glanced up at Ivan again when he heard him pondering over how many times they'd been alive.

The slightly off pitching of Alfred's voice, combined with the realisation that his hand was no longer being soothed by motions of thumb, pierced through the fog that had been clouding Ivan's mind, and he loosened his grip abruptly - as though he'd been stung. He didn't let go entirely, but he wasn't squeezing anymore. "Ah - I am sorry - I, ah, I did not mean to hurt you..." He apologised, eyes no longer so... blank. He didn't know what was the matter with him, but he didn't think that it excused hurting anyone, or scaring them. Alfred hadn't exactly sounded at ease, after all. If he hadn't run up against, well, whatever kind of mental block that had been, he might have felt a little pleased that his explanation had been well-received. However, zoning out really hadn't helped. "I do not know what happened, Solnyshka..." He murmured, meeting Alfred's gaze, suppressing the urge to wince at the emotions he read there. He hoped that he hadn't upset the American too much... However, they were in much the same boat, so it was only reasonable that he should explain what he did know, even if it wasn't nice. "It hurt to think of, but I have no newly unearthed memories that could shed light - only hurting." He knew this would worry Alfred - truth be told, it was worrying him - but there was no way that Alfred wouldn't want to understand. Better to explain right away than to drag it out. "Ahh, is your hand... okay?"

Alfred shook his head slightly. "No, no no, you didn't hurt me, I promise. You...worried me though," he responded quietly, gently moving his free hand to place it over Ivan's. "Something about what you said before you zoned out was...really off-putting and honestly I'm pretty sure it was your grip on my hand that kept me from thinking on it like you had," he said softly, then bit his lip slightly and glanced down. "And..yeah, nothing came from it but...alarm. Something about it was almost downright terrifying and I'm not sure why."

When Alfred assured him that he wasn't hurt, Ivan fairly sagged with relief. He knew that the blond wasn't exactly a delicate little dainty, but he'd been so worried that he might have harmed someone he cared about. Somehow, that seemed like something it would be all too easy for him to worry about, if things like this happened again. The feeling of his boyfriend's warm hand over his own was soothing, and he could feel his heart rate slowing back to normal - rather than the anxious pounding from moments before. "I do not know the why of it, but I know what you mean by... off-putting." Ivan nodded, with a slight grimace. "I... distracted you from the disturbing feelings? That... that is good." He mumbled, beginning to smooth his thumb across the hand he held in a subconscious echo of Alfred's earlier motion. "I would not like to see you hurt." The smile he was shown, though shaky, was balming to see, and he offered up one of his own. It wasn't exactly a grin, but it was positive. "Perhaps... we should have something with chocolate?" He suggested, tilting his head slightly as he spoke, regarding Alfred's chewed lip and worried blue eyes with soft concern. "I have read that it stimulates positive brain chemistry, or something like that... Also, it tastes good - it might help with feeling better?"

Alfred let out a quiet little sigh, gently bringing his and Ivan's hands up a little closer. "I don't know if trying to remember some of the things from that far in the past would be good for us," he said softly, looking more somber than he had any other time since Ivan had arrived. His energy seemed to be gone for the time being, leaving him sitting still and gently gripping onto his Russian boyfriend's hand and relaxing a bit as he felt his thumb against the back of his hand, like he'd been doing earlier for Ivan. "Honestly I'm not sure I'd want to know what can set off that kind of panic from what would usually be an innocent inquiry," he said softly, moving so he could lightly lean against the other.

Offering up a small, rueful smile, Ivan nodded slightly. He still felt a little shaken by the mental backlash that had come from his moment of idle curiosity, and was in no mood to pry further. Perhaps, if it hadn't rattled him as much, he might have wondered why it was that his speculation caused a reaction that was so... forbidding - after all, philosophers had been wondering about past lives for thousands of years, had they not? However, he simply wanted to move away from the topic, at least for the moment. "I agree." He responded simply, his own ex
pression more along the lines of those he'd worn among acquaintances before - serious and carefully bland. The facade was belied by his continued caressing of his boyfriend's hand, and the hints of concern his eyes held - Ivan was worried. He could hardly blame Alfred for seeming a little, well, drained - he felt less bright as well. "I, too, would rather not speculate." The corners of his mouth tugged up a little when Alfred smiled at the prospect of chocolate - for all that it wasn't one of the American's dazzling grins, it was heartening.

He accepted the pastry with an ex
pression that had developed into a fond smile, thanking Alfred quietly, and began to nibble on it. Having something to chew did tend to make him feel more secure, somehow, and the chocolate was rather nice. Hopefully, the friendliness of the two of them eating nice things together would make the atmosphere less tense. He noticed that Alfred was avoiding the sight of the eyebrows man, but he felt that - given what he'd been told - this was understandable. He'd not interfere, unless things became awkward. What was more interesting was the way that said eyebrows man was doing the same as Alfred. Curious, Ivan sneaked the occasional glance to see what he could learn of the fellow from what was apparent. After all, curiosity about the man's present self couldn't hurt him the way it could about the man's past, could it?

(Bumpity.)

Alfred nodded, offering another light little smile before he ended up lightly leaning against the Russian, his eyes focused down onto the table for the time being as he let himself think. He nibbled idly on the pastry he'd gotten for himself, confident that if he ended up flipping that switch again on accident Ivan would be able to break him out like he'd done for him.

It felt good, reassuring, having Alfred leaning into his side - it signalled to Ivan that, although they'd just been inexplicably stressed, things were alright for the moment. True, Alfred seemed a little downcast, but no more than could be expected after such an encounter with weirdness. A sigh redirected his attention away from the Brit, and he listened to what his boyfriend had to say. "Mm, it would be better to know the rules of this peculiar affliction of memory, rather than running into them at random." He agreed, noticing the worried cast of Alfred's ex
pression. "I wish I could say that I thought there would be no consequence, but I think that you are right. We must simply have faith that we will weather whatever storm may be - heh, sounds like cliche, but makes sense, da?" He added, wryly amused by the slight cheesiness of his last words, but not entirely unconcerned.

Ivan turned his gaze slightly to follow Alfred's, wondering what had caught his eye. It was the eerie eyebrows man again, it seemed. He did not get quite the same poignancy of feeling about him as did Alfred, but he did feel something. Perhaps a hint of challenge, respect and a little amusement - perhaps some kind of rival, though not primary? He cut off that line of thought quickly, just in case it led him somewhere uncomfortable, and gave Alfred what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "Da, sounds good to me." He concurred, thinking about it. They could both probably use the relaxation, to be honest. What they would do after their nap, though, could be another matter. Deciding that he wanted to cheer his boyfriend up, and change the subject, Ivan offered his sketchbook. "Ah, would you like a look? I have been drawing..."

Alfred nodded, closing his eyes for a few brief moments since he had finished his pastry. He was about to open his mouth to mention that he had to get back up tot he counter soon, but then Ivan was pulling out his sketchpad. His movements had Alfred reopening his eyes to glance up at him, ex
pression curious for a moment before he nodded and took hold of the sketchbook rather carefully -it wasn't his, after all, he had to treat it with more care than he would his things. Then he shifted a little bit to start looking through the drawings, a soft blush rising to his cheeks when he came to the ones of him. Then he smiled and looked up at Ivan, his cheeks still tinged pink, bordering on red. "You're a pretty fantastic artist, I have to say," he told him, moving to rest his head on Ivan's shoulder, seeming to have relaxed now from his tensing up before.

Ivan wondered vaguely what train of thought he had just interrupted, but he figured that it couldn't have been too important - after all, Alfred was now paying attention to the sketchbook rather than trying to finish a sentence. He watched with interest, and maybe a little anxiety, as the American's curious eyes flickered from page to page, and noted with bemused satisfaction that his drawings seemed to hold the power of blushes. He liked making Alfred blush - it was very cute - but he hadn't expected his art to do the job. Then again, why not? "Ah... I am? Spasiba~ I am glad that you like my art." He smiled, pleased, slightly abashed in the face of such guileless praise.

It was good to see that Alfred was more at ease now, he reflected, and he felt glad that it was something he'd done that had produced this effect. "I understand." He nodded, when Alfred stopped humming in favour of speech. "I like it better with you here myself, but I agree that you have a thing needing doing." He favoured the American with another smile, though not quite so warm a smile as he had managed earlier - it warmed up quite well when his cheek was kissed, though. "Ahh, I am glad that your work here makes you happy," He managed, "And not only because I have thought of doing so myself." He was slightly pink, and not quite used to the idea that being kissed in a place like this - even on the cheek - would be unremarked upon, so he was a little bit nervous. He wouldn't rather not, though, so he simply waited for Alfred's gaze to land elsewhere than his face so that he could glance around to gauge reactions.