'So you're asking if I regret it? Oh, okay, well.'
Japan stared at America with a feral grin. But he wasn't talking. He hadn't spoken in a long time.
'Why don't I ask you if you regret what you did to me? This never would have happened if it wasn't for you, sweetheart.'
There was a flicker in Japan's usually emotionless eyes.
'Hey, what's the matter? You didn't like you? Would've hit me if you could move? That's cute.'
Japan did not let his smile falter.
'So, regret. Do I regret the radiation that's still killing your people? Do I regret the destruction, the chaos, the screaming, the dying children, the pregnant women who are gonna spawn out monsters?'
Japan started struggling against the ropes that were holding him in place on the chair and holding his head in place, forcing him to stare directly at America.
America pushed himself off the table he was sitting on and hit his captive in the jaw, then grabbed him by his hair and pulled his face off to his.
'Bad dog, gotta stay still,' he spat. 'Or I'll punish you more.'
His eyes skipped down to look at the spot where he'd punched Japan. 'Damn, it looks like the right side is bleeding again. Want me to get the mirror so you can see?'
He regarded Japan for a moment. 'Maybe later.'
He returned to sitting on the table, swinging his legs.
'I don't,' he tossed out casually.
Japan looked up at him, obviously confused.
'Regret,' clarified America. 'I don't regret.'
Japan said something in a very low voice, and then winced as blood trickled down his lips and both sides of his jaw.
'Whoa, hey, he's barking!' America jumped off the table and came closer.
'So what was that?'
Japan shook his head.
'Come on, it can't be that bad. Beg for me and I might leave you alone for a while.'
The lie, cruel and transparent as it was, was obviously still a motivation for the Japanese man.
'I called you a monster,' Japan whispered, and then coughed violently.
Blood splattered onto America's jacket.
'Red's not really my colour,' he said, taking it off and throwing it across the room. 'But thanks anyway.'
He grabbed Japan by the collar and shoved his fist into his throat.
Japan's eyes widened in agony as America hissed, 'You think I want your blood on my jacket if it's not your last, filthy Jap?'
The American pulled away in disgust and pulled a few tissues from a nearby box. He started wiping at Japan's bloody face, ignoring the whimpers of pain.
'Thank god you can't scream anymore,' he said conversationally as he pulled a tissue roughly along one of the gashes. 'That really got old after the third day. I'm glad I thought of stopping it.'
He noticed the terror on Japan's face, even with the abnormal grin still in place, and laughed. 'Yeah, you know as well as I do that you can scream, it just won't help. You'll just want to keep on screaming.'
He balled the soaked tissues up and threw them over his shoulder onto the table.
'You know, I keep looking at that smile and thinking how creepy it is, but it's not, I get that now. It's nice that I don't have to put up with all the pleading looks.'
He raised a hand and traced the scar on the right side that so uncannily resembled a wide, demented grin.
'I like it when you smile.'