Just like children sleeping

[Coming out into the hallway, Poland catches sight of the messages his mirror has been leaving him. His eyes scan over them briefly, and then he calmly goes into his room again. A few moments later, he's back, with a quill and inkwell in hand. He goes to the mirror that's being written on at that moment, sets the ink and quill down next to it, straightens up...]

[And puts his fist into the mirror. He's a nation, it's not like his hand won't heal.]

[Leaning down, he picks up his writing supplies, and scrawls on one of the larger fragments of the mirror:

[Just because you're broken doesn't mean I ever will be. Get lost.]

[Point delivered. That said... Man, his hand is going to be regretting that.]

[Poland appears to be walking around unsupervised, which the doctors may note that he's not allowed to do, because his delusions include something about being a knight and he's gotten into some pretty heated arguments with the staff. In light of his oppositional-defiant disorder, though, it's probably not all that surprising to see him breaking the rules.]

[He's also wearing one of the pretty dresses that were in his closet, which should at least please the nice men in the white coats who keep trying to get him to accept that he is a she.]

So like, what gives? Is the Queen like, running out of ideas or something? 'Cause the hospital thing is so old news.

And like, why does the name on my door say "Felicja"? That's like, a girls' name! It was locked, too--I like, had to spend forever getting it open!

Well, whatever. Like, how's everyone dealing with this one so far? The food here sucks almost as bad as the last hospital's. Liet, where are you? You should totally make me something.

[Poland stumbles as he makes his way through the fifth floor corridor. He looks utterly drained and exhausted.]

Gawd, that was like, a total suckfest... [Sigh] Oh, well, whatevs.

[He opens the door to his room, damned near falling in as he calls out to Liet.]

I'm like, hoooooome...

[Poland has built a trebuchet.]

[I'll repeat that, to let it sink in.]

[Poland has built a freaking trebuchet. In the foyer by the main entrance.]

[For the first two nights, he more or less kept his grip on things. But he is tired. He is unsettled by all that screaming. And, between arguing with like half of his friends, the Major being the Major, not being able to find Ryohei's sister, and Elaine blowing up, by nightfall this time, he simply didn't have the sort of mental strength left to resist the paranoia.]

[If he were thinking straight, he'd recognize that more or less everyone has tried and failed to bust out of here in the past few nights. But... he can't. All he can think is that everything is being lame, and he needs to get out now.]

[So he's been pulling heavy things out of the closet in the nearest room, wheeling them over in a cart, and flinging them at the veil with a gorram trebuchet.]

[It's not working. And after growing more and more frustrated and freaked out thanks to the absurd levels of stress, he's forced to take a break so he can move the pile of assorted heavy things that's accumulated in front of the totally unharmed veil from his failed attempts. Because they're getting in the way.]

[He slumps down next to what appears to be the engine of a car (not that he recognizes it), beginning to pound his bare fists against the veil.]

Let me out. LET ME OUT!

[So, if your character is friends with Poland, they might notice that he hasn't been speaking to them since the event ended.]

[That includes everyone. Yes, even Liet. Poland is so thoroughly embarrassed about everything he did under the influence of the event--including but not limited to crushing on Korea, agreeing to marry Wolfram, hitting Pakistan, weeping girlishly on pretty much everyone he knows, and (most crucially, he feels) losing his first kiss to someone he isn't into, then failing to recognize Liet and confessing his feelings to him while he thought he was a stranger--that he really can't deal with anyone yet.]

[He... He just doesn't even.]

[So as soon as he regained his sanity, he scurried off to a room about as far from his and Liet's room as possible, and barricaded himself inside. He hasn't been responding to network posts, and until now, he hasn't so much as set foot outside of the room.]

[Unfortunately, his "pretend I don't exist" plan is not flawless. He can't stay in there forever. After all, the horses need feeding!]

[...Oh, and so does Poland. So, late at night, he sneeeeeaks out of the room and down the stairs, to take care of the horses and grab food for the next day. He just hopes no one will see him... Ruin that hope for him, plz?]

[Poland, all things considered, has had a pretty rough month. Historical spoilers, America's crazytime with the shooting and the tazer, Liet getting knocked out for days, omg cyborg Nazi, the sex change curse poking at his yet to be resolved gay-Catholic-crossdresser identity issues, getting caught crossdressing... yeah, it hasn't been pretty.]

[Does Poland care?]

[HELL NO! Like Poland lets that shit get him down. Please, what does he look like? A total loser? As if!]

[He's all bundled up in several layers of tunics, with leather gloves and sturdy boots and a fur-trimmed cloak, and has been out on one of the lawns in front of the mansion for hours, making super-cute SNOW PONIES! Ohhhhh, yes. There also appears to be a snow-effigy of someone in lovingly detailed Teutonic knight's armor getting trampled by one of the ponies.]

Like, check it out! Aren't they totally kick-ass? [Grins at the camera cheekily, his cheeks pink from the cold and his hair tangled by the wind, looking like he's having the time of his life.]

[Hey, America. Remember when Poland was all on about going back to his room and behaving?]

[He was lying. Like a dog. He can't believe you bought that, for real!]

[So thanks to, you know, circumstances, Poland's latent proclivity towards delinquency rebellion is manifesting a few centuries earlier than it otherwise might have. Germany, Prussia, Russia, and Austria would all probably be utterly unsurprised to know that he's gotten himself mixed up with the little insurgent movement that's forming, and, having done some highly inadvisable improvised explosive stuff with black powder to open his door (since it's the only explosive he knows of, and the battering ram thing wasn't working so hot this time, and he couldn't reach any pickable lock, and the sliding-the-bolt-up-with-something-thin trick didn't turn out so great either), is now is out roaming the halls and making trouble.]

[Lavi wanted a distraction, and if they need more distracting than an armor-clad trap walking around, crossbows akimbo, shooting cameras and setting off alarms all over the place and grinning... Well, he could doubtless come up with something, but that seems like enough for now ♥]

[Various video cameras, both America's and the Mansion's, might pick up glances of him, just before they get crossbow'd into utter nonfunctionality, either with a bolt or a heavy blow from the butt end. He might not be technologically advanced, but by God, he can smash stuff!]