"He's more perceptive than most think. Good thing to be."

Russia hums softly in response, jots something down to finish a sentence and carefully sets aside his quill so it doesn't drip everywhere. The two bottles garner a grin, because of course Latvia gets him. There's something familiar and relaxing in popping the cork from his bottle and Russia takes a moment to savor this, to savor the first taste of the alcohol upon his tongue.

"Faintly." Another swallow, brow quirked. "Not bad -- better than what we got last time I think."

His head turns, violet gaze fond as it lingers upon his fellow nation.