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[ The incomprehensible typing immediately switches to a very frustrated America cursing under his breath with language that would impress a sailor. He blinks once he realizes that the video is on. ]

Finally. These damn things-- handy, don't get me wrong, but whatever happened to writing? D'ya know how long it took me to learn how to do that? [ huff. ]

Okay, onwards. Show of hands: who here's American and who's from the much less handsome funsucker known as England? 'Cause it seems like the limeys are crawlin' right outta the woodwork.

[ His sour looks immediately brightens. ]

But if ya are American, I'd like to have ya in my sights! You're my responsibility, being your country and all. Gotta make sure y'all are fine and dandy and whatnot! And uh, all you guys who ain't American. I'm used to takin' people under my wings and... yeah, I know I'm kinda goin' through a lot right now, but my ports are always open. Er, metaphorically. And literally. Don't think it really applies literally here, though.

[ Awkwardly rubs his neck. That got a little more rambly (and a lot more insecure) than he intended. GOTTA SAVE FACE. ]

Anyone needin' some quality doctoring can also talk to me! Even though apparently some people don't think I'm quite up to snuff, I can tell ya that I have a great success rate and can stitch with the best of 'em. Plus, who doesn't want a treatment that prescribes the best medicine of all?

[ Grinning, he holds up a bottle of Wild Turkey.

So quality. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[America, what are you doing.

Here Martha had thought that he'd dropped this whole subject, that he had maybe stumbled across some common sense and realized that he should leave doctoring to the professionals who weren't from the 1800s, but no. Not so lucky.

When he holds up the alcohol, she just rolls her eyes and moves to respond. So here's a limey, coming to give you some trouble.]

... America. [It takes her a moment to actually call him by name, because this is still one of the strangest things she's come across here.] We talked about this.

[ Common sense goes through America faster than food when he has dysentery. Part of it is stubbornness, part is you're a Brit you don't tell me what to do, and part is the simple fact without something to do, without the shred of good and heroism he has... what then? What value does he hold in Wonderland without everything that makes him America? At that thought, his eyes widen a bit, looking rather uncomfortable and maybe a little sad.

(Y'know, aside from his dashing good looks and super strength and big heart-- okay, that boosts his confidence enough to shake off the bad vibes. Even without his amazing country-ness, he's still a baller individual, at least in his mind.) ]

What, about your Englishness? It's okay. You can't help it.

[ All the while he smirks. Obviously he knows what she means, it's just easier (and more fun) to play dumb. ]

[While it's only there for a few seconds, Martha still sees that sad look on his face, and it seems oddly genuine. She doesn't think it was just an attempt to try and guilt her, since he'd moved past it too quickly for it to have that intention behind it. Has she actually hurt his feelings? And more importantly, should she let that bother her?

The moment that he opens his mouth, Martha realizes that the last thing she needs to do is pity America. She lets out a sigh, because she can tell that she's being toyed with. While they aren't in a crisis situation in the moment, she still doesn't have much patience for this.]

And should I assume that you can't help being overwhelmingly obnoxious, either?

[ That just makes his grin widen. That is the most British response he's heard. Somehow when it's not coming out of England's mouth, it's bearable. ]

Not at all. It's kinda my thing.

[ Pissing off Europeans is something he lives for okay. ]

[If he really is an embodiment of America, then that would make sense. Martha lets out a small sigh, but in the end she can't really argue with him.]

... Fair enough. But even so, you need to realize that if you try and treat people here, it's not going to end well. You may think that you're capable and well-trained, but there's plenty more you need to learn.

[She doesn't know if she's up to the task of teaching someone that much, but at this point she's not sure she has a choice.]

[ Holy shit I thought I replied to this WHOOPS. ]

Might surprise ya to hear this, but I'm more than willing to learn. I like learning! That's how I get farther in life! When ya don't learn, you end up like-- [ predictably it was going to be another England joke, but he decides that maybe he should cut that shit out for now ] Point is, I'll catch up. I know I'm capable and well-trained, it's just that I've got room to be more capable and well-trained.

And you shouldn't knock my skills even though I ain't up to your standards.

[ No matter what he learns though, he's still gonna give people booze. ]

[Martha catches that remark that he almost makes, and while she's relieved that he doesn't actually say it, the intent is still there. Which normally wouldn't bother her that much, but America hasn't gotten off on the best foot with her.

Still, he's making it sound like he really does want to learn and improve himself, and Martha has a difficult time just saying no to that flat-out. She lets out a heavy sigh.]

There's a lot for you to catch up on. I wouldn't be able to teach you everything myself, but maybe some of the other doctors would help. A few of them are even American, so you'd luck out there. [That last sentence is thinly-veiled sarcasm. No one has perfected passive aggression like the Brits.]

[ Martha is actually replacement England, except she's actually a competent human being instead of a lonely, grouchy pile of loserdom. ]

Lucked out indeed. Not that I'd mind learnin' from ya, for the record, even if you're Miss Brit Sassypants. Who knows? Maybe I'll even be able to teach all y'all some stuff back.

[ don't ask for the love of god don't ask ]

[Miss Brit Sassypants. Martha's fairly certain she's never been called that before, and she thinks she could have gone her whole life without earning that title. Still, if America's really willing to apply himself, then maybe...

But her curiosity isn't something she can suppress all that often, so sorry, but she's asking.]

Like what? [She isn't all that convinced that it's going to be anything impressive, but who knows?]

[ America makes double pistols with his fingers, points at Martha, and winks. ]

I'm a master at curing hysteria, if ya know what I mean.

[ Because Martha's travels are not complete without someone hitting on her horribly. This time it's the most awkward pickup line imaginable. Because I went a whole weekend without internet waiting to make this joke I hope you enjoyed the suspense. ]

[It actually takes her a few seconds to even realize that it's supposed to be a pick-up line. Martha blinks, stares down at her screen -- and it's honestly the finger-pistols that make it all click in her head.

Of course, she knows what hysteria is. Just like the vapors, it was a catch-all disease to explain why women were oh-so-emotional in past days. The whole thing is actually rather offensive, so it's no surprise that she ends up frowning instead of being charmed.]

If you don't have anything actually useful to say, then we may as well end things here. [Sorry, America, but her patience for you is just set at low.]

[ Unfortunately America does not jump to the conclusion that he is being an asshole. ]

Didja get it? 'Cause it's treated with...

[ He starts wiggling his finger and says in a loud whisper: ]

Hint: I'm flirting with you.

[ And he's doing such a wonderful job of it. At this point he's completely expecting rejection HE JUST WANTS HER TO UNDERSTAND HIS INTENTIONS BEFORE HE'S REJECTED.

Except his intentions are equally awful so who knows why he's trying. ]

[As if it wasn't bad enough, then he essentially ruins his already bad joke by explaining to her. As if he thinks she's too daft to just understand it the first time.]

You don't find it the tiniest bit offensive that you're essentially saying that sex with you would heal a woman's hysteria?

[Not to mention that she is nowhere near hysterical in demeanor. Martha's had her moments, maybe, but that's only to be expected with some of the situations she's been in. All in all, she's carried herself very well. So she hardly needs his judgment.

But then she pauses. And reconsiders just who she's talking to.]

Wait a tic. Can countries even shag?

[ That's a question he's unprepared for and gets a little flustered. ]

'Course we can! We got human bodies, don't we? Got the same... er, I mean, I haven't actually-- but that don't matter 'cause I know we got the parts and hearts necessary for it!

...And I know because when ya got France in the family, you're probably gonna walk in on him with your troops or get a wandering hand at some point.

[ Finally it clicks that he's probably being as obnoxious as France at this point, to which he starts looking a little morose. ]

But I don't do that. I was just playin'.

[Even though he cuts himself off, Martha still notices. He's never had sex before, has he? Then again, she's not certain when the embodiment of a country would even have the time. Except for someplace like Wonderland, where the issues of America itself weren't really present.

No, she's not going to think about that. Nor is she going to encourage him to go in search of someone to take his virginity. He can... figure that one out on his own.]

Well, glad to hear that you won't stoop to random groping, at least. [She's not easing up on the sass that quickly, but it does look like he's realized his mistake. (Maybe.)]

Is there anything of actual use you could teach me, or should we just focus on getting you caught up?

Edited 2013-06-04 01:54 (UTC)

[ Ding ding ding. But getting into America's (lack of) sex life is opening a whole can of worms that no one wants or cares about.

Now he can't quite meet her eyes. He glances off to the side and starts chewing on one of his fingernails. It looks like he's already bitten off the nail and some of the skin to his thumb and is now anxiously working on the other fingers. ]

I know a lot of things, but I dunno how useful they're gonna be to you in futureland. I can shoot pretty well. I can cook. Um... aside from that, probably not a whole lot you'd find useful here.

[The way he's chewing on his thumb catches her attention. It's the sort of nervous habit she wouldn't expect to see from someone like him, but then again, Martha doesn't actually know him that well.

She's thought about learning how to handle a gun better, but she's always held back because of the Doctor's influence. Cooking isn't something she needs to worry about, either -- with the diner set up, it's never a concern.]

Hmm... well, you can... [She pauses, because this is almost painful to say.] Come by the clinic sometime. We'll start to get you caught up.

And until then, don't try to treat anyone. You might end up doing more harm than good. [She's stern about that point.]

I hope ya know that my natural inclination is to defy the British so it's gonna take every ounce of perseverance I got to follow that order.

[ He's only partly joking. It's not just Martha and the ever-present friction in their conversations. He can't stand the idea of being useless. That she might be right--that he's more harm than good even when he's trying to help, when he's trying to be more than a tool of war--it's a tough pill to swallow. And damn does he take a lot of pills.

He sighs and slumps forward, obviously resigned to his fate. ]

The whole reason I even went into medicine was so that I wouldn't have to raise a gun against any of my own people, and I can't even do that right. Goddamn, what am I good for?

[ Wait, shit, did he say that out loud? Startled by the revelation, he bites down a little too hard on his finger and draws more blood. His hand drops away from his mouth. ]

Ouch! Er, yeah, sure, I'll be by whenever. Sometime. I'll give a... whatever you do with these things. Digital letter. I don't fuckin' know.

[A natural inclination to defy the British, is it? Martha can actually believe that, if he truly is America personified and isn't just stark raving mad. Which she hasn't quite decided on yet, but she'll play along for now.

If he doesn't listen to her, though, he's only going to end up paying for it. Deep down, America seems to know that, judging from what he says next.

And it strikes home more than any other claims he's made so far. Of course, anyone who wants to learn how to heal people usually has a good reason for it, so when he starts berating himself, Martha finds herself feeling almost... guilty.]

You can contact me by mobile, yeah, or if you just want to drop by, there should be someone there regardless of when it is.

[She wonders if she should just leave it at that, but it wouldn't feel right.] ... You shouldn't blame yourself for it. It's just a product of the time you're from, that's all.

[ Oh, he's still stark raving mad. Every country is. When you live the kind of lives they do you are pretty much guaranteed to go insane to some degree.

Anger flashes across his face. Not his usual poutiness or childlike tantrum. It's so brief that it's like watching the flicker of a forest fire in the distance, something that you don't want to come any closer. ]

Don't patronize me.

[ The expression is gone as quick as it came. He blinks like he wasn't sure what just happened, then shakes his head like he's shaking off a bad thought. (It's going to be another century before that fire will really start to eat him alive.) America is left still looking pretty anxious, though he speaks calmly as he starts gnawing on a different finger. ]

Real talk, Martha. I've seen a lot of people die. Not even all of it was in battle or massacres. D'ya know what it like to have a plague go around and you can't die, not permanently anyway, while everyone's droppin' around you? What it's like to literally feel a city burning down? No, 'course you don't, 'cause humans can die. Ain't no opt out for any of us.

Which ain't bad most of the time but I've had plenty of friends die. Childbirth, fever, slow infections from bullet wounds... y'know, some of the other countries call our people are children. So when all hell is raised and I'm bein' torn apart from the inside and asked to fire at them--shit, not even the revolution was this bad.

And I was doin' good, I was legitimately savin' lives and fixin' the system, got the mortality ratio from disease to battlefield wound down two-to-one from six-to-one. Now I'm here and I'm back to bein'... what? Cannon fodder? Political puppet? Dunno what else this body's good for so let's do it.

[ Then it sorta registers that what she said is right, that it's not his fault, that he is doing good for what he's got in his time. It's not enough to make him feel better but it's enough to calm him down enough to stop chewing on his own fucking body like an animal caught in a trap. ]

...Lemme just say, I hate bein' behind. I swear to God if my brothers show up and they're from the distant future I'm just gonna fuckin' lose it.

[It comes out of nowhere, at least from her perspective.

Martha isn't often left speechless, but when he starts to talk about what it's really like to represent a country, she's left to sit there, staring into America's face on the screen in stunned silence.

He's right, of course, that there's no way she could conceive of what it's like. She's seen death, she's been right in the middle of it, she knows what it's like and how much it hurts to lose people. Thankfully, all of her family made it out intact, but there were others, friends she met during The Year That Never Was -- true, she undid their deaths, but she still remembers how hopeless it had seemed at times.

After he's done, she doesn't say anything for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts. How can she console someone that she can barely understand? But she has to try.]

It gets better. I don't mean this to be patronizing, really, it's just... you're from the Civil War, is that right? Your own country is tearing itself apart. But America makes it through that, and it gets better -- it becomes the most powerful country in the world.

[There are differing opinions on America as a nation, of course, and all kinds of controversial feelings about their politics, but when it comes to the day-to-day lives of the people living there, well... there's a reason that it's seen as the land of opportunity.]

And would you stop gnawing on yourself? That's not going to fix anything.

Habit.

[ But he does move to sit on his hands so he won't damage them further. Unfortunately that means he starts chewing on his lip, but he quickly realizes it and stops. This boy has got some kind of oral fixation and it is not doing him any favors.

It takes a little effort, but he's eventually able to give her a small smile. ]

I appreciate the thought. Not that I don't believe ya, just... there's what you're sayin' and then there's my reality. Most powerful country--that'll sink in eventually.

[ Then his ego will inflate and get so much worse as time goes on. For now though his arrogance is somewhat tempered by the war.

His grin grows a little more. ]

Gonna guess "listen to the bitter ramblings of a country in the middle of an identity crisis" wasn't on your list of things to do today. Sorry 'bout that. I got a big mouth and without my pals around, I gotta subject all y'all in Wonderland to my problems even if there's no fixin' 'em.

[At least America makes an attempt to stop with the chewing. Martha's guess is that it would take a whole lot more than that to get him to stop for good, but it's something she can keep an eye on with him at least. If he's biting hard enough to draw blood, then it's a bit worse than a normal oral fixation.

At least he doesn't completely brush aside her claim about what his future holds. She understands that it's hard for him to conceptualize at the moment, but he'll see.

When he apologizes, Martha loses some of the tension in her shoulders. She's not exactly experienced in speaking to a whole country, no, but it seems like she's managed to calm him down.]

It's fine. If you... need to get it out, that's all right. [She's not sure how this conversation transitioned from her being annoyed at him to counseling him in an odd way, but she's not going to question it.]

[ Could be worse. Could start out with a convo about moonshine then move onto existential crisis then conclude with drinking half a bottle of bourbon like he subjected poor Daryl to. Such is America's life.

Actually no Martha still has it worse for the most awkward flirting ever. WHAT A LUCKY GAL. ]

Yeah it's... a lot. A lot's wrong.

[ But he doesn't elaborate further. At first his silence is kinda peaceful, then the pause starts to feel increasingly more awkward. If his hands weren't trapped under his ass he'd probably be rubbing the back of his head in uneasiness right now. ]

Welp. Here we are.

...You got anything you wanna share or am I gonna be the only one here with a heart layin' out for all to see? 'Cause now I kinda feel weird.

[Guess who may have read that thread? Poor Daryl, indeed.

Honestly, Martha would have been willing to end things right then and there, give America a chance to compose himself if need be and also just take a moment or two to think over everything she'd heard, but then he asks about her.

Martha isn't sure what she should say. She can understand that he wants to feel like they're on even ground, but she can't really find anything comparable to say in face of the issues a whole country would have.] Well, I... don't think I could really compare to that. Just human, after all. And a limey at that.

[She may be taking another jab at his prejudices, but it's in a half-hearted way.] What do you want to know?

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