Hate you? [England repeats it back with some confusion, regarding America with a furrowed brow. He looks America over once, as if hoping to find where such an assumption might have come from.
He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.
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He seems to find an answer, because he looks away abruptly, staring at the seam where the front door meets the floor.] I wouldn't hate you. Don't be ridiculous.