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For his part, Ivan hadn't spent much time in the hotel anyway. Just long enough to rid himself of his meeting notes in his room and to get sufficient money to drink himself into oblivion. No one had thought his departure strange in the least. If Ivan had been distant before, the growing paranoia brought on by this war had made him downright reclusive.

The night prior had seen him searching for the most out of the way bar that still served quality imported vodka, as he absoloutely refused to drink whatever piss-poor substitute there was for the offering here. As a result, post-meeting, he'd been surefooted and rather confident, and had settled himself into a corner where he could see the room before the place even hinted at getting busy. He'd had nothing to hide, so he'd forgone back streets this time, preferring to be in the company of people - however lowbrow those people might be - than in a dark alleyway where he could be waylaid by anyone. Not that he couldn't handle himself, quite the contrary, in fact, he simply did not want to deal with the mess that would come along with... disposing... of any less than savoury individuals who might choose to pick a fight with him.

Much like the regular patrons of this bar, now that it came to mind again for the first time in hours. The light smile that never quite found its way to his eyes no matter how much he drank was enough to keep most away from his corner, but Ivan still did not care to pick a fight with anyone in the room. It would prove to be... messy at best.

All Alfred's efforts went ignored, by both Ivan's body and his mind, as he tried to work out just what was going on. He'd shift in discomfort every so often, but his movements were sluggish and delayed as he tried to think through the euphoria that was wrapping his mind in cotton. Eventually, his body started to feel numb, almost feeling like a limb does when it 'falls asleep', and his shifting was as much to try and dispel that feeling as it was out of distaste for Alfred's actions. Even the other's words took too long to process, and Ivan's speech - when he formed a response - was slurred. A hesitant "N'...et..." was all he could manage, terribly honest, because coming up with a lie was simply too much work.

He didn't know how much time had passed, though that wasn't new in this situation, but what he did know was that after some span of time the feelings began to rapidly escalate until his vision warped, faded in and out. The red light in the room suddenly seemed so much brighter, as did... everything else. The details, when things were in focus, were astounding. The prior euphoria heightened until it simply became too much and everything shattered around him... quite literally, or at least to Ivan's perceptions it did. The room and everything in it fragmented, turned into two-dimensional shards of what once was and whipped past him, over him... through him, and they felt like nothing he could describe. 'Soft' and 'hard' and 'sharp' were replaced with colours and sounds and no other manner of description. Alfred stayed, though. In the abyss, Alfred remained kneeling in front of Ivan, but only because he'd been touching him when everything else broke apart, and now the other was the only thing, as far as Ivan was concerned, anchoring him to... wherever they were, keeping one of them from spiraling away into the surroundings.

Outwardly, it became apparent that something had changed. Ivan's pupils were dilated to the point where there was only a barely-visible purple ring around his pupil, and he'd begun to shake. His body heat rose to that of a normal human being, though because that was feverish to him, he broke into a sweat. He cringed away from things that weren't there, and obviously did not respond favourably to Alfred's touching him... but how could he, if he couldn't feel anything of the sort?

“Take what back, dear Pru-… No, not Prussia anymore are you? East Germany? Gilbert? Ah~ha… Not that it is of importance…” Ivan knew very well what he was talking about, he’d had a hand in it, after all, but playing like he knew not why Gilbert was storming into his study unannounced… or, relatively unannounced, given that the person standing across from him had all the subtlety of a bear in a bakery at the moment. He’d known he was coming before the vase had been shattered simply because of his propensity for stomping around and slamming doors and into walls and just… things. It really was annoying, but it did give him fair warning and enough time to secure any important documents safely so that -- ah, there they went. Everything else went flying, and what needed to remain safe and ordered did, safely shut away in a drawer of the massive desk which was now the only thing separating him from a rather irate Prussian.

Not that Ivan had a particular fear for said irate Prussian, the problem was was that he was injured, and Ivan did not want to have to go through the trouble of wasting the water and soap and time that would be required to clean his blood off of his clothing. Not a uniform, no, to wear one daily would be, frankly, impractical… as would wearing things which were already in possession of copious amounts of bloodstains - almost to the point where they seemed a part of the garment. Useful for when one had to plan ahead when punishing their unruly possessions, not when they were shut away in a drawer during spontaneous occasions such as this.

Gilbert’s anger wasn’t new to Ivan, but this particular reasoning was. They’d just gotten back from the meeting that had decided it all, and it was the first he’d seen Gilbert since then, so Ivan deemed it necessary to wait and gauge his actions, reactions, before acting in accordance to them. There was always a gamble involved that he would get hurt (more than his ears, which were already telling him to make Gilbert be quiet - ignored, for now), but what was a little harm when the ability - or, at least, the assumed ability - to get into the other’s head was so much more valuable than a little spared pain?