[Even though America's touch is gentle, England still flinches at the strange sensation of America seemingly reaching right through the collar. If he's not chained to the wall, then--what happened to his neck? How were they really choking him?
The memories of being strangled by his own collar are still pretty vivid, the identity of those who did it aside. England briefly squeezes his eyes shut, but that makes the recollection stronger, so he meets America's gaze again despite the tremor rising in his spine. He hates the idea of needing someone's help even to break free of this wretched illusion.
If he's confident enough, maybe America won't notice how embarrassed he is, and hopefully everyone else is too wrapped up in their own rescues to pay attention to what they're doing. He taps out an instruction.] Keep touching me.
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The memories of being strangled by his own collar are still pretty vivid, the identity of those who did it aside. England briefly squeezes his eyes shut, but that makes the recollection stronger, so he meets America's gaze again despite the tremor rising in his spine. He hates the idea of needing someone's help even to break free of this wretched illusion.
If he's confident enough, maybe America won't notice how embarrassed he is, and hopefully everyone else is too wrapped up in their own rescues to pay attention to what they're doing. He taps out an instruction.] Keep touching me.