I don't want you straining yourself and passing out. [He and America both have pretty high pain tolerance, but, as with so many of their unique charms, it's different now. They can feel human exhaustion.]
[England makes a small humming noise, which means that he has a few examples and has just charitably chosen not to mention them. He squeezes America's hand more tightly.] I just want you to be as safe as circumstances allow.
[Especially with the announcement of Luna's death today.]
[America might mention something about how he has yet to die, but he doesn't like thinking about death, and anyway, he'd just think about how awful it was when England died.] Usually I can ignore the pain. Like, I've had worse, y'know? Just sometimes it feels like someone's stabbing me and--uh, sorry. [Is that insensitive or something?]
[England scoffs out a wry laugh under his breath and moves to gingerly lean against America, apparently not having taken offence to this comment.] You idiot. That doesn't reassure me. [Being stabbed sucks! England frets all the more for the familiarity of America's pain.]
[England's free hand brushes America's thigh.] Don't say that like it's supposed to placate me. [He doesn't want America to be in pain at all.
Though the touch is innocuous, England's fingers momentarily drift upwards in fleeting suggestion. Fleeting, of course, because Ginger is in the room, and they're both in too much pain.] ...I wish I could do something for it.
[America squirms just a little--it's been ages, but he knows they can't, between Ginger and their various pain and injury situations. He rests his head against England's instead.] It feels nicer just like this.
[England's hand falls away from America's leg; he contents himself with the tangle of their intertwined fingers. It's a simple task to turn his face towards America's and lay a kiss down at his temple.
He can't kiss the pain better, of course, but it's a nice thought.] Soppy fool.
[America smiles. If nothing else it's a distraction. Maybe he can make himself believe England can make him feel better just with a kiss.] You don't really mind.
Hm. I suppose not. [England is probably the soppier of the two of them, anyway. His thumb strokes absent lines along the side of America's hand. His mind is heavy with Luna's departure, and his slow-healing wound, and the monstrous Elizabeth that plagues his rare stretches of sleep. But at least he has this.]
We could see about a blood transfusion if it gets worse, though that would only be a temporary solution. [Still, America seems like he's in a considerable amount of pain; if it were to get worse, it might be worth alleviating it, even if only for a short time.]
[America isn't sure he likes the idea of that, still not really comfortable with the level of mortality he has here, and it shows on his face. I dunno, they should probably save the blood for someone who really needs it.
[The counterargument is obvious. England opts not to voice it.] You choose the stupidest times to be selfless. [It's very frustrating! But his kind heart is half the reason England loves him.]
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[Especially with the announcement of Luna's death today.]
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Though the touch is innocuous, England's fingers momentarily drift upwards in fleeting suggestion. Fleeting, of course, because Ginger is in the room, and they're both in too much pain.] ...I wish I could do something for it.
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He can't kiss the pain better, of course, but it's a nice thought.] Soppy fool.
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