Everyone: “Happy Birthday, Avian Rusameiya!!”
Rusame: “Wha-?”
Kingstate: “WH-?! You, too? Are all of you just growing long hair?”
Rusame: “With how much I am working, I don’t really have much of a choice. Anyways, what is all of this?”
Amandara: “Well, we’re celebrating your b-day, bro! Aw, look at your kids! Lookin’ good, there, Sissy Christi!”
Cankraine: “Anyways, we have decided to put on this birthday party for you on Nyoom Conference! How does that sound?”
Rusame: “Really? Well, I suppose I don’t mind.”
Pruscan: “THAT’S THE CUE EVERYONE. TAKE YOUR PLACES!!”
And so, Rusame watched with wide eyes and gaping mouth as everyone either slipped on some kind of choir cloak and/or pulled out an instrument and started an orchestra long version of the happy birthday song that eerily sounded like the USSR anthem.
Rusame: “That...sounded faintly of communism.”
The Entire Russian Fleet: “OUR BIRTHDAY, YOUR HIGHNESS.”
Rusame: “Haha, everyone that was beautiful!”
He took the joke fairly well.











