Unable to prevent it, (if he wanted to get the grit out of his mouth, anyway,) England spat once more before lifting up out of his hiding spot, and made a push further forward, running past the whispering zing of bullets rushing past him. Panting slightly, the Brit was thankfully when he was able to slide into another covered location, taking a moment to carefully look around for that damn Alfred, while he tried to catch his breath.
He swore, that boy would be the death of him yet, and one that he probably wouldn't come back from.
Mean while, the young man in question was currently hiding in a small ally.
Leaning against the side of the broken building, Alfred took a deep breath of the polluted air only to cough it out along with a mouthful of blood a second later. Absently, the teenager wiped the warm, red liquid from his lips with the back of his hand that he held his gun with as he waited for the fresh wave of gun fire to die as he clenched his other hand to his bloodied gut.
With the bombs and gunfire going off in the back ground, the American nation could almost block out the sound of screams in the distance, though that didn't help the fact that he was pretty sure that he had left half his insides on the ground a ways back, where he had been caught with a large piece of stay debris in the last explosion.
Swallowing down another mouthful of blood, America risked peaking around the corner to check out the situation. Through the crack lenses of Texas, the young nation looked over the shattered land scape, wondering how many of their (HIS) soldiers had fallen by this point, when he caught the movement of a familiar uniform a bit off in the distance.
Ignoring the fact that his fuzzy vision was blurred, not only due to his damaged glasses, but also from blood loss, Al squinted to sharpen his vision enough to make out the details of the mans clothing. 'British,' He decided, after a moment.
It took a few seconds longer before the sandy blond realized exactly who the Brit actually was, though. "England..." America muttered lowly to himself, his thinking feeling slower then normal, then frowned. It was a frustrating that his English comrade would risk showing up at such a dangerous location, but also a relief to see a familiar face.
Watching as the slim man carefully made his way down the dangerous road, Alfred tried to think up ways that he could get the man's attention without giving away either of their locations, and it was then that he caught a familiar glint out of the corner of his eye.
There was a sniper in the building across the street... at the man as a clear shot at England from his location.