Oh goodness. The strange bespectacled man was leaning toward him and Japan leaned back, suddenly very, very self-conscious. It wasn't the fact that he was invading the expansive personal space bubble Japan liked to keep around him at all times. It wasn't even the slightly unfocused answer that the man gave in response to Japan's polite question about his homeland. Some people, after all, did not like to talk about their homes. It was perfectly natural for expatriates to speak of their original homelands with tension, especially if they had left for unfavorable reasons such as war or famine.

It was the fact that a man, whose name he did not know, suddenly knew his. Not the name accidentally given either, but the one he had been using as a cover. How he could have jumped from asking if he was Japanese (which was rather obvious considering he embodied every stereotype of the Japanese people) to asking if his name was Honda came as a bit of a shock, and Japan could do little but stare at the space just over the stranger's shoulder in order to avoid actually looking into his eyes, and then drop his gaze entirely to the floor next to him.

He had a feeling this conversation was about to become very complicated.

"......Yes, that is...the name I answer to here. Are you familiar with me?"