[Strangely enough, America's reaction just strengthens his resolve. Thinking about his death terrifies him, but it's easier if he can plan for what happens afterwards without actually touching on the subject itself.]
We have to account for every possibility. I don't care if you don't want to hear it, I'm saying it anyway. Don't die. Don't die.
Just...just tell me why you think that might happen. I'll do anything to help you!
[He wants to be calm and collected like England seems to him, but he's never been good at dealing with his own emotions. Facing sad things is against his nature; he'd rather be happy and smiling and not think about anything that could change that.
His chest hurts really badly right now and his throat is choked up. He really just wants to cry and let himself be comforted, but he also wants England to think he's strong and capable so he tries visibly to keep a grip on it before finally burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.]
[He reaches over and pulls America against him into a hug - and if he clings a little too tightly, surely it's just from the position and nothing else.]
You can't protect me from executions. I suppose with the other countries, we might be able to form a voting block, but...well. I don't expect anything from them, and I won't ask it of you. Don't make yourself look any more suspicious or give the prey any reason to turn against you, and you're guaranteed to survive this intact.
[He laughs shakily. He's scared, yes, but...gallows humor has almost become something of a habit to him by now, a defense mechanism against what he doesn't want to face. He won't ignore it or put on a sunny outlook like America tries to, but even just acting like he's making light of his own death helps.]
To be honest, I'm shocked I'm still alive at all. If I were a hound, the first thing I'd do would be to check the alignment of anyone claiming a role. Maybe luck just might be on my side after all. [He says it, but he doesn't believe it for a second. If he had any luck whatsoever, he would have never been chosen as a hunter.]
[He sinks into England's hold on him and wraps his arms around his back, holding on tightly. He's past the point of trying not to be upset. He's crying too much to really respond immediately to anything England says, but he seems to be more upset, crying shaky sobs into England's shoulder. When he's calmed down enough to speak, a few seconds later, he doesn't move.]
[The word comes out as a snarl. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down - he knows he can't stop America from grieving over his death, but he'll damned if he feels guilty of all things when the only thing he's ever done was put too much blind faith into England.]
How many times do I have to tell you to stop blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault before it gets through your thick skull? Any blame that doesn't lie with Critter lies with me. My decisions are my own - you don't get to take responsibility for them. I think...I think my fate has been set in stone ever since I stepped into this cursed place to begin with, at any rate.
You only said you were the caregiver because I was too obvious!
[he pulls away, suddenly furious through his tears.]
You...you have no right to risk your own life for me. And don't pretend that isn't what you did. Knowing you were a hunter...you should have kept your mouth shut and let them think I was suspicious if they had to.
If you think I'm just going to accept you talking like there's a chance I'd let you die...I'll punch you in the face.
Shut up, I did it to save my own skin and you know it.
[And oh, this is dangerous territory for him. He doesn't want to have hope. He doesn't want to give America false hope. It's not that he's given up - he'll still do everything in his power to help the hunters win and keep America safe - but it's easier for him just to expect the worst rather than the best. The only reason he's been able to keep his composure to this extent is because he's already made his peace with dying as well as he's able.
Even so...America's desperation and fierce belief lights a spark in him that he can't put out no matter how much he tries.]
If you punch me in the face, I'll kick you in the shins. Fine - I guess I have no choice but to stay alive for your sake.
[He laughs and smiles through his tears, relieved. It may not make sense, but death just feels impossible for himself or for England, like as long as neither of them accepts it, it can't happen.]
Just don't do anything for me to punch over and you're good!
There's so much that falls into that category, you're going to have to write me a list.
[Even though his chest is still far too tight, even though he still doesn't really believe at all that he'll be getting out alive, England smiles back. For the first time since the game's started, he looks genuinely happy, like an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
America knows the truth now. He doesn't have to lie anymore. He still has far too many things to atone for and to feel guilty over, but at least this won't be one of them.]
Hehehehe...You suck. I just want to punch your dumb face anyway.
[He's just going to laugh as though that was really funny, because he just feels sort of relieved and overwhelmed, and moments like these are few and far between; he's cheerful a lot of the time, but he rarely gets to feel so happy and cared about with someone else. There are very few people he's actually close to enough to show feelings beyond just the surface emotions, and he knows England is just as bad if not worse about opening up, but here they are.
He doesn't really understand why it makes him feel so happy to see England like this, but it does.]
[This is it. This is what he's fighting for. It's cheesy and cliche and terribly sappy and England is embarrassed just for thinking it, but even more than bringing everyone back...he wants America to be able to get out of here with a smile on his face. America, who was loud and thoughtless and obnoxious and optimistic to an extent that England could never be, who never let anything get him down for long, who was the worst possible candidate for this sort of game. He has to win and he has to live, because he can't let America down now.
So that's three goals, then. Get America out. Win. Survive. It's not going to be easy, but he had once been the largest and most powerful empire in the world, and the sun is not going to set until he says so.]
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We have to account for every possibility. I don't care if you don't want to hear it, I'm saying it anyway. Don't die. Don't die.
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[He wants to be calm and collected like England seems to him, but he's never been good at dealing with his own emotions. Facing sad things is against his nature; he'd rather be happy and smiling and not think about anything that could change that.
His chest hurts really badly right now and his throat is choked up. He really just wants to cry and let himself be comforted, but he also wants England to think he's strong and capable so he tries visibly to keep a grip on it before finally burying his face in his hands, shoulders shaking.]
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You can't protect me from executions. I suppose with the other countries, we might be able to form a voting block, but...well. I don't expect anything from them, and I won't ask it of you. Don't make yourself look any more suspicious or give the prey any reason to turn against you, and you're guaranteed to survive this intact.
[He laughs shakily. He's scared, yes, but...gallows humor has almost become something of a habit to him by now, a defense mechanism against what he doesn't want to face. He won't ignore it or put on a sunny outlook like America tries to, but even just acting like he's making light of his own death helps.]
To be honest, I'm shocked I'm still alive at all. If I were a hound, the first thing I'd do would be to check the alignment of anyone claiming a role. Maybe luck just might be on my side after all. [He says it, but he doesn't believe it for a second. If he had any luck whatsoever, he would have never been chosen as a hunter.]
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It's my fault?
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[The word comes out as a snarl. He takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself down - he knows he can't stop America from grieving over his death, but he'll damned if he feels guilty of all things when the only thing he's ever done was put too much blind faith into England.]
How many times do I have to tell you to stop blaming yourself for things that aren't your fault before it gets through your thick skull? Any blame that doesn't lie with Critter lies with me. My decisions are my own - you don't get to take responsibility for them. I think...I think my fate has been set in stone ever since I stepped into this cursed place to begin with, at any rate.
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[he pulls away, suddenly furious through his tears.]
You...you have no right to risk your own life for me. And don't pretend that isn't what you did. Knowing you were a hunter...you should have kept your mouth shut and let them think I was suspicious if they had to.
If you think I'm just going to accept you talking like there's a chance I'd let you die...I'll punch you in the face.
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[And oh, this is dangerous territory for him. He doesn't want to have hope. He doesn't want to give America false hope. It's not that he's given up - he'll still do everything in his power to help the hunters win and keep America safe - but it's easier for him just to expect the worst rather than the best. The only reason he's been able to keep his composure to this extent is because he's already made his peace with dying as well as he's able.
Even so...America's desperation and fierce belief lights a spark in him that he can't put out no matter how much he tries.]
If you punch me in the face, I'll kick you in the shins. Fine - I guess I have no choice but to stay alive for your sake.
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Just don't do anything for me to punch over and you're good!
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[Even though his chest is still far too tight, even though he still doesn't really believe at all that he'll be getting out alive, England smiles back. For the first time since the game's started, he looks genuinely happy, like an enormous weight has been lifted from his shoulders.
America knows the truth now. He doesn't have to lie anymore. He still has far too many things to atone for and to feel guilty over, but at least this won't be one of them.]
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[He's just going to laugh as though that was really funny, because he just feels sort of relieved and overwhelmed, and moments like these are few and far between; he's cheerful a lot of the time, but he rarely gets to feel so happy and cared about with someone else. There are very few people he's actually close to enough to show feelings beyond just the surface emotions, and he knows England is just as bad if not worse about opening up, but here they are.
He doesn't really understand why it makes him feel so happy to see England like this, but it does.]
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[This is it. This is what he's fighting for. It's cheesy and cliche and terribly sappy and England is embarrassed just for thinking it, but even more than bringing everyone back...he wants America to be able to get out of here with a smile on his face. America, who was loud and thoughtless and obnoxious and optimistic to an extent that England could never be, who never let anything get him down for long, who was the worst possible candidate for this sort of game. He has to win and he has to live, because he can't let America down now.
So that's three goals, then. Get America out. Win. Survive. It's not going to be easy, but he had once been the largest and most powerful empire in the world, and the sun is not going to set until he says so.]
...thanks, by the way.
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[It's a little surprising England would thank him, but he didn't expect to be having a conversation like this with him anyway.]