Sometimes he wonders at how easily he takes to magic, like a fish to water or one of those other inane metaphors. As it is, there's still a level of concern and curiosity Russia thinks he will never be rid of when it comes to magic. So when Latvia migrates down to join him in the warm room lit by a dying flame and blue moonlight, it's a bit of a reprieve from the texts he was pouring over. Russia had always been an attentive pupil, but now he is teacher and student both and that drives him forward.

Still. He looks up and greets Latvia with a quiet grin a match of the one upon his fellow nation's face.

"To magic, indeed!" A murmur, warm and pleased, gaze curious. "Nobody noticed?"

Not that he thinks they'd care, really.