"Man--" Whatever tirade America was forming dies in his throat. It sounds like America is literally choking on his own words. This time he actually hopes Tatsumi makes a quick entry, but no, of course he hangs back just to watch events unfold. Of course the one time someone would actually know something is off by his presence, he stays behind.

Prick.

America is fraying at the edges. He laughs, tinged with borderline hysteria instead of humor or confidence, and continues his advance. Once his laughter abruptly dies, he takes a few deep breaths, the starts to sentences he can't utter.

"Lots," he finally rasps. The only true reply he can manage that won't reveal the perpetrator or the personal Hell he's been traversing.