Gold and Charcoal

Gold and Charcoal
Chapter 16
Feelings
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Beta: Tahariel
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“Since when do you drink on your own?”

“Shut up, Havoc.”

“As welcoming as always, I see.”

Havoc took the seat at Ed’s left, a seat that had remained free solely because of Edward’s nasty glares to all who wandered close with the intention of occupying it. The glare didn’t impress Havoc in the least. The soldier asked for something Edward was not familiar with and, to Ed’s relief, drank it in silence. Maybe Havoc would just be quiet and leave when he was done.

His eternal cigarette hanging at the corner of his mouth, the blond officer became talkative around halfway down his second glass. “So, what’s gotten you hyped up today?”

“Nothing.”

Havoc ignored the aggressive note in Edward’s voice, casually continuing, “I heard your pet ran off. Impressive. But to be honest I’m not surprised. He’s a smart one, nothing like the others. Guess it’s because he wasn’t brought in as a kid. They grow up to be placid like cows when they’re here for years. Bet none of them ever seriously thought about trying to leave. Yours saw the opportunity and took off behind our backs, while we were all busy chasing off the murderer.”

Edward turned to glare, his automail dragging loudly on the wooden counter. “You guys are so incompetent. You can’t even catch one psycho, and you let the slaves escape while you’re at it.”

“The higher ups aren’t the brightest buttons,” Havoc conceded. “It would have been much more efficient if Colonel Hawkeye had been in charge. Now that’s a woman who knows how to make things happen.”

Edward snorted, turning back to hunch over his glass. “Yeah, she would’ve shot them all. She would have been bound to get the right one.”

“You’re still going on about that?” Havoc gave him a sidelong glance but Edward refused to react, his gaze firmly glued to the transparent liquid in front of him. The man leaned a forearm on the counter, pulling on his cigarette with the other hand. “She didn’t shoot anyone. She didn’t light the fire. She didn’t even make any accusations. She’s just a soldier. She does her job. She doesn’t have much of a choice. You don’t, I don’t. Things are like that sometimes. Justice isn’t always fair.”

“Would you shut up? You’re annoying me.” Edward grumbled into his glass. “It’s Wrath’s fault to begin with.”

“He didn’t come out of nowhere,” argued Havoc calmly. “I don’t know everything, but I know this much. If you want to play the blame game, you should blame-ow!” The exclamation of pain and the subsequent shaking of that hand in the air were due to Ed’s automail fist coming down onto the aforementioned hand.

“Don’t piss me off. I’m drunk enough to make you regret it.”

“I thought I was safe from harm as long as I didn’t remind you of your shortness,” mourned Havoc, checking gingerly if he could use his left hand to pull on his cigarette since the right one was currently throbbing unpleasantly.

“WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SMALL YOU’D LOSE HIM IN YOUR CIGARETTE PACK?!”

Havoc shifted aside and watched Edward splatter over the ground. “Here’s a tip; it’s difficult to carry out murderous intentions when one has consumed more alcohol than one’s body is used to. In your case, a single glass can do the trick. How much did you have?”

“Three,” Edward admitted, ascending back to his seat with certain difficulty. “But I’ve been here for a long while. Like…an hour.”

“So you still have two doses in you. That’s one too much. Sit still and drink some water if you want to feel better.”

Havoc finished his cigarette and crushed it in the provided ash tray before producing another one. He had it down to an art, how to switch smoke in less than three seconds and never breathe a single puff of non-toxic air – unless Hawkeye made him. The man didn’t pursue the conversation, waiting patiently.

Edward couldn’t cut the ranting for too long, apparently raving to the glass filled with water he had just received. “What’s wrong with security anyway? Did everybody run off to look for a murderer, leaving the doors unguarded and ignoring any wandering slaves? What about all the damn chimeras? I wasted months of my life teaching morons how not to screw up on their arrays and they produce useless chimeras that can’t actually guard anything?”

“You know, if you’re that furious over Roy’s escape, you could ask Hawkeye to retrieve him,” the soldier offered. “It’s part of our job to recover escaped slaves or prisoners, even if it never actually happened before.”

“You’d just get him killed with your incompetence.” Thinking that over – very slowly due to his foggy brain – Edward snorted, “Nah, actually, you’re the ones who would get killed. He’s too smart for you. Roy’s a knife thrower, he can hide them anywhere. He’s not afraid of stupid firearms and even if you hook up an alchemist, he’d figure out how to turn it against you. Al’s been letting that bitch look into our books. He has a huge memory or something.”

“You sure seem to think highly of him,” observed Havoc.

“No, I don’t. Everybody else is just even lamer than he is,” Edward countered firmly. “He can fight though…nearly beat me. Probably because he has nothing else to do out there but fight all day.”

“Speaking of fighting…” Havoc switched to a third cigarette. “I know he only just left and can’t be implicated, but there has been trouble brewing in the slums. I hope your Roy won’t be foolish enough to join them. He doesn’t seem very afraid of consequences, but this one could fall on you. Currently, they couldn’t hold a single charge against you. But say Roy takes an active part in an uprising…then his escape will become suspicious and it won’t be possible to blame bad security. Catch my drift?”

“I was at Winry’s and Alphonse was talking to that guy there…the blond one…”

Havoc dryly replied, “Yeah, most of us are blonds. Winry is known to be a childhood friend of yours. She’d be likely to lie to help you. It wouldn’t help.”

Edward looked at Havoc with an absolute lack of concern. “Whatever. Roy won’t be doing anything.” He waved his left hand in the hair. “He’s lazy. He only does stuff if it’s amusing and he doesn’t need to take it seriously. An attempted rebellion is too serious and complicated.” Once again, Edward needed some time to drunkenly reflect on the situation. “Yeah, okay, maybe he would think it’s just another game. He thinks his life is a game. But he still wouldn’t. He’s weird.”

“Weird how?”

“Like…doesn’t like to kill people. It bothers him.”

“He said that and you believed him?”

Ed made another waving gesture, irritated that his word was doubted. Why did Havoc need justification for everything? He just knew things because he was that good, it wasn’t complicated. “Well…no…he never said it…but he’s fucking soft. He’s like…I dunno.” He gave up trying to find the words to explain. “You really have to be stuck with him for a while to see how screwed up he is.”

There wasn’t any more water in his glass, realized Edward. He squinted in the irritating low light and searched for the bartender. The man was at the other end, busy serving the other three men who were drinking tonight. Edward considered trying to catch the bartender’s attention but gave up when he realized he didn’t know if he wanted alcohol, water or nothing at all.

Edward suddenly spoke again. “Anyway, I’m glad he’s gone. He was a pain to deal with. Crazy guy, always looking for a fight. It amuses him to play with his life or something. He’s always doing what he feels like, and he doesn’t think much about how pissed it’s likely to make me, or anybody else. I bet it would make him grin if I really lost my temper and strangled him to death. He’d be like ‘aw, did the dramatically height challenged girly alchemist lose his temper?’ and then I’d kill him faster. And then Al would kill me.”

Ed pitched his voice in an unconvincing imitation of Alphonse’s voice. “It’s always ‘Niisan, he’s just playing’, ‘Niisan, stop being so susceptible’, ‘Niisan, be nice’, ‘Niisan, don’t break Roy’s neck’, ‘Niisan, don’t scar my sexy pet’.” Edward growled, automail slamming on the counter. “Damnit, he needs to start taking my side! Mine! Roy’s always starting it!” He sniffed, “Treacherous brother.”

Havoc interrupted the raving with two quietly spoken words. “I see…”

“See what?” asked Edward with suspicion, not liking Havoc’s tone.

“Nothing. But alright, if you say there won’t be a problem…”

There were now three cigarette butts in the plate and the three other customers had left. The Ishvarith man was cleaning glasses at the far end, not paying any attention to them. Though, at one time or other, he had left another glass of water in front of Edward.

“And why are you drinking again?” wondered Havoc. “Since everything is going so well and all.”

“And you? Is something wrong for you?”

“I’m trying to ruin my health,” grinned Havoc. “Cigarettes, alcohol, it’s all good.”

“Liar,” said Ed, curious now. Why was the soldier so defensive? The water must have done him some good if he could think normally again, Edward noted in surprise. “Got dumped again?”

“Can’t get dumped by somebody you never went out with.”

“Mn?” Edward planted an elbow on the bar and prompted. “Go on.”

“Catherine,” sighed Havoc. “She still won’t go on a date. Says she wants a man like her brother. I’ve been lifting weights, but it’s not enough for her. Ah, women are so hard to deal with.”

“Guys aren’t any easier,” the teenager grumbled, looking pensively at his glass of water. He reached for the fruit plate, dropped grapes in the water and clapped to change the mix into alcohol. “Why am I drinking? No reason. I feel like it.”

-

The night finished in a dirty bedroom and on a squeaky mattress. It was cheap to rent a room for an hour and Roy was much too familiar with the situation. The only pretty thing in the room was the girl in his arms and Roy told her so, though with different words. He had to make it seem like a compliment after all.

Roy was sitting on the bed with his legs outstretched, Paninya on his lap with her human shoulder leaned against his naked chest. Roy already had a hand up her shirt and the other stroking the side of her waist while he kissed every inch of skin of her shoulder and neck he could reach.

Paninya showed a hint of unease after the tank top came off and Roy moved on for the rest. She caught his hands before he could tug down her pants.” It tends to creep people out to see my legs you know,” she warned, matter-of-fact.

Roy quirked an eyebrow at her. “How do you have sex without taking off your pants?”

The girl tapped her lips in answer, utterly shameless. “I’m good with this.”

“And about yourself?” enquired Roy.

She caught his hand and nipped at one of his fingers. “You have fingers. I don’t have metal in my panties. It works out.”

Roy dismissed the whole concept. “I don’t do things half-way. Now unless you have a problem with it…” He tugged lightly at the light material of her sand-colored pants, expression inquisitive.

Paninya shrugged and lifted her hips. She was a charming example of a woman fully comfortable with her body; it looked like she had only been concerned about his feelings. “Eh, fine. Go on.”

It made Roy pause to see so much metal. Paninya barely had any thigh, her hips melting down into metal. At least the ports were well grounded into her hipbones on the sides, making them solid and less likely to grind and harm her flesh.

Roy ran his fingers along the meeting of metal and flesh, carefully. “Does it hurt? All this metal?”

“It’s fine, most of the time. I have painkillers for when it gets bad. Winter is a bitch.”

“Yes, it must be,” frowned Roy. “These limbs must steal all your heat.” He kept touching, lightly, and noted it made Paninya squirm slightly. She didn’t protest, leading him to assume it wasn’t in discomfort. “I heard the interior of the port is sensitive. In a bad way or a good way?”

“Eh, well it depends,” answered Paninya, voice thoughtful, “It’s like…if you rub the nerves the wrong way, it hurts like a bitch. You don’t let just anybody play with it. But if you know how it’s made and how to touch, it’s pretty interesting. You can literally masturbate with it alone. Pleasure comes from sensitive nerves after all and you’ve got a bunch of exposed ones in there.”

Roy spent a moment trying not to visualize it. He spent another moment enjoying the visuals. He wondered if the boys…. And that time with Edward... Well, it did make sense. “Interesting. But it’s probably not worth it just to play since it hurts so much to reconnect it.”

“Depends again,” countered Paninya. “It helps if you’re already tingling with pleasure, it seems to dull the pain.”

“So the trick is to fuck yourself raw before reconnecting it?”

“Something like that,” agreed the girl.

More visuals. Very entertaining visuals. It would be nice to learn what were the ‘right’ ways to handle it… Roy eyed Paninya’s arm but decided it would be entirely out of place to ask so much. She might get defensive, thinking he was trying to steal her automail to sell it back. He had a feeling her limbs were worth a fortune on the black market.

Paninya seemed to have followed his thought. She tensed slightly and wondered, “Do you have an automail fetish or something?”

Roy could smell bad past experiences in Paninya’s reaction. He caught her human hand and kissed the wrist. “When I make love to a lady, I make love to all of her. That’s all.”

Paninya laughed, relaxing. “You’re strange. I think I like you.”

“You’re naked in my arms,” retorted Roy. “I dare to hope you do like me.”

A cocky grin was born on Paninya’s face. “Eh, well you might have to make some efforts to really convince me I like you…”

Roy laid the girl down on the mattress and bent over her with a purr while she locked her arms around his neck. “With pleasure.”

-

Alphonse had just finished his work when Edward stumbled in, barely able to walk far enough to collapse on the bed.

“You’re drunk,” Alphonse realized, with an equal measure of surprise and dismay. What now? Wasn’t everything going well? Had he met -? “Niisan, what happened?”

“Nothing. You were busy so I went and drank with Havoc. He’s got some sort of love problem with Armstrong’s little sister. It’s funny.” Ed hiccupped and made a grimace. “Urk. Maybe I drank a little too much…” He buried his head under a pillow. “Damn lights. Are you done? Want them turned off.”

Alphonse started to gather and pill up the mess on his desk. “Yeah, just about done this, finally. Nash said he’d send Fletcher to pick it up in a few.”

“You’re still doing stuff for them?” Edward growled. “You know what he’s going to do with your research. He’s going to do some freak experiments on people.”

“He can’t do that.”

“They do it anyway,” snapped Edward, emerging from under his pillow and squinting against the light. He suddenly felt utterly annoyed at his brother’s innocence. Was Alphonse being stupid on purpose or what? “I heard they’re looking into using pregnant women to make their damned stone. They’re so dumb. It doesn’t fucking exist. Just like human transmutation, you can’t reach perfection. You can only get an incomplete, messed up creation.”

Alphonse stared at the many pages of his research. In itself, there was nothing harmful in his work. But it was true this carefully documented knowledge could be used to nasty ends, like any knowledge. What was he supposed to do? Burn it because it could maybe be used to harm people? It could be useful for medicine too! But if Nash really planned to do such a thing as use pregnant women to try to create the Philosopher’s Stone… Alphonse didn’t want to help anyone do such a thing. It was wrong to use humans in experiments, always.

Before Al could solve the problem, there were knocks at the door. The heavy document under his arm, he walked over and found Fletcher timidly looking up at him.

“My father said you had something for him.”

Al hesitated but finally handed over his work to the outstretched pair of small hands. “Here. Everything he wanted to know is in there, every detail from conception to birth, unless it was impossible to find at all. Then I only had speculations to offer. It should be enough though.”

“Thank you.” He took a bag out of the pocket of his green overalls. “This is for you.”

Alphonse nodded and murmured a good bye, hastily closing the door. He threw the coin bag on the table between the couches and said, knowing his brother was looking at him, “We still need money. If you won’t work anymore, I certainly can’t spit on what I earn.” Edward didn’t answer. “We need it…” Al turned around, but his brother only shifted to face the wall, pretending he was sleeping.

Alphonse stared long enough for his pain to change into anger. Why was there always something going on with Edward? Why couldn’t he be content for once? Roy was gone, the coats were gone, Envy hadn’t showed up for a while, Edward didn’t have to deal with the morons at work, they had no quarrels with anybody. Not everything was perfect, but there wasn’t anything worth angsting over. It wasn’t fair to force him to deal with his older brother’s incomprehensible mood swings. Alphonse tried, he tried hard to understand and make things work out. But there was a point where it got to him too.

Why was it so hard to be happy? Four…five years of trying. Five years of failure and Alphonse was sick of it. He just wanted Edward to smile and mock his cooking abilities and growl when he made a veiled remark about his height and fight when he was trying to make him drink milk and -

“I’m the one who needs to get drunk,” snarled Al to empty air, tugging his gloves on and stalking out. If he remained, they would get into a fight and he knew he would regret it afterward.

Edward didn’t twitch as Alphonse left.

Alphonse wandered aimlessly for the better part of an hour before risking a few knocks at Winry’s door. Hawkeye opened the door and informed him the mechanic was out to help a surgeon fix automail on an unlucky man who had lost his hand.

“Oh, alright,” murmured Alphonse, disheartened. “Thank you.”

“Wait, Alphonse. Is there a problem?”

“No, it’s nothing!” Al hurried away from Hawkeye’s piercing eyes,

Five minutes later, quick footsteps caught up to him and matched his pace. “I don’t know why you think ‘nothing’ is a believable answer when you wander by at this hour, on your own, looking like you could either cry or hit somebody. I may be older than you, Alphonse, but I am not yet senile.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t want apologies, I want explanations.” Her voice softened to ask, “What’s wrong? Is Edward alright?”

“He’s fine. Just drunk,” grumbled Al, interiorly glad for Hawkeye’s cool concern. Somebody cared about how he felt. “You don’t have to worry, nothing bad happened. It’s just…things that happen. It’ll be okay.”

“Where are you going?”

Alphonse had no idea. He was however walking down the right corridor to reach the bar. “If Niisan can get drunk and pass out, so can I,” he moodily declared.

“I advise against it.”

Any sane person would, Alphonse first. But why was he always reasonable anyway? What was the point? “Yeah well, I’m sorry, I think I want to not be reasonable for once.”

“I’ll stay in your company,” announced Hawkeye after a short period of reflection. Her tone indicated it was a final decision.

“You don’t have to.” Al didn’t want her to either. “I’m not a kid, it’s not your job to watch me.”

“There are things people must do out of duty, but there are also things people do because they wish to. It is up to me to decide if I want to watch over you and see you home safely or not. There is still somebody out there murdering alchemists,” she reminded him.

Alphonse would have argued that a simple gun couldn’t stop a man who killed with alchemy but he didn’t want Riza to feel like she ought to demonstrate to him what she could do with her ‘simple gun’. Even without alchemy, Riza was frighteningly strong.

There were few people about. The murderer must have made people wary and it was a weeknight, which meant getting up early for those who had a job. Hawkeye’s sharp footsteps echoed and covered everybody else’s; they almost sounded like gunshots.

Alphonse tried again, “Well, don’t you have any duties at home? Housecleaning or cooking or something.” He couldn’t see Hawkeye doing any of those things, but since the couple didn’t have any slaves right now, one of them had to take care of it. Winry was even less likely to know how to use cleaning or cooking appliances. “Guns to check maybe…”

“I don’t have anything of any importance to do at home tonight, it will be a better use of my time to follow you.”

“If you want,” the boy conceded, noticing they had already reached the bar. He jumped on the far right seat and Hawkeye cleared the two seats directly at his left with one leveled glare. Even with her hair down and wearing a white shirt and cream pants, she still had the military aura.

The bartender was that Ishvarith again and Alphonse gave him a smile, receiving in return a tiny nod of welcome. It made him deeply grateful to see that others acknowledged his existence. Edward could sulk all he wanted, other people would pay attention to him.

Alphonse’s request for ‘anything with alcohol’ was soon fulfilled, as was Hawkeye’s wish for whiskey. The woman was patient, leaving the boy to organize his thoughts and find his calm.

“My brother isn’t easy to deal with,” Al sighed as an introduction. “Sometimes he tries to be nice to me, and other times it’s like he’s rude on purpose.”

“What did he do this time?”

“He told me Nash would use my work for dangerous experiments on humans. He knows I can’t help it, I have to work for whoever will pay me. I can’t predict that anything I gather about pregnancy and babies’ growth will be used for harm. What can I do about it? He doesn’t have to rub it in my face and make me feel like I’m the one at fault!”

“He might be taking out his frustration toward others on you,” suggested Hawkeye.

Alphonse nodded meekly. “Yeah, I think that’s what he’s doing. But it’s not fair. I didn’t do anything.” Alphonse took a sip and grimaced. Alcohol was definitely disgusting. Hopefully, the subsequent glasses would be easier to down. “I guess I’m not the only one he does this to. He placed his fears on Roy’s back, his frustrations on me and his helpless anger on you. He also blames a lot of everything on our father, but I’m not sure I can argue much on that one.”

“I hoped he would become reasonable, but I cannot blame him for his anger toward me,” murmured Hawkeye. “I don’t deny my responsibility.”

Alphonse shook his head. “Don’t say that. He knows it’s not your fault. He’s upset because you were there and he wasn’t. He couldn’t do a thing because he was absent, but you couldn’t do anything either, even though you were present. He’s just… not very logical with his emotions. I don’t blame you. You didn’t kill our teacher. She broke the law and you are a soldier who was sent to uphold it and arrest her. If we want to blame somebody, we should point at Wrath. He told on her. It’s hard to blame those who condemned her to death, since the rules are very clear. Death is the punishment for her crime.” Alphonse’s voice caught in his throat, remembering the pain of losing a mother for the second time. “It shouldn’t be a crime though…whoever created those rules is despicable.”

The woman looked momentarily conflicted. She was a soldier and she abided by the rules. It was unusual for her to think about contesting them. “I can’t say I agree on everything, but I believe they are for the general good. We have built a good society on those rules.”

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe he’d had too much of that attitude in the last few days, but Alphonse couldn’t help but snap, voice rough with contained anger. “I can’t believe a society where parents throw their children in the street because of hair color is a good one. I can’t accept that it’s okay for mongrels to grow up on their own, abandoned by their families.”

Alphonse took a pause to drink and concentrated on the burn traveling down his throat while he tried to gather difficult thoughts to voice them. “Hair color means nothing. It does not indicate the purity of one’s genes. Our teacher and Maria should have been enough to teach us that. We tried to forget because it hurt. We pretended they were exceptions, that they were different because they had lived here all their lives. It’s not true. Roy is truly street born and bred. He’s still better than many specimens of our so-called superior race. I met his friend briefly as well. He’s not stupid either, he’s not an animal. He’s cheerful, well mannered and clever. They don’t deserve to live on the street because nobody will grant them a decent job with just the excuse that they have black hair!”

“Alphonse, not so loud.” Hawkeye attempted to pacify him. “Their lives can’t be so bad if he preferred to return there.”

Al shook his head. “He had a choice. Playing doggy to a pair of blondies for warmth and food or joining his friends. Freedom and friendship are worth more than physical comfort, don’t you think? But it doesn’t make it any fairer for them!” Alphonse breathed deeply to calm himself and continue on at a lower volume. “They look like a strong pair. I’m sure they can do well on their own. But that doesn’t mean all the other children do. Isn’t it true that it is easy to find young mongrels, males and females alike, selling their bodies for cheap?”

Hawkeye might not have found adequate words to admit the truth, or she did not care to try and soften it. Either way, there was a pause before her words. “Yes, I believe that is correct.”

Alphonse glanced away. “See, I really hate to think about those things, because I don’t see what I can do about it when I already can’t take proper care of my own brother.”

“You can solve those personal problems,” countered Hawkeye. “It isn’t difficult to follow the law.”

“It’s harder when they make up laws just to bother you. Unofficial laws, just so the higher ups will know the Fuhrer disapproves of us and know they wouldn’t be in trouble for arresting us. The anti-Flamel nagging was a warning we’re not allowed to think on our own too much.”

“I understand your attachment to that symbol, but it isn’t the only thing on which you two have trod the line. It’s dangerous.”

“We know.” Al didn’t take it very seriously. Yes, yes, dangerous. He was aware of it. Breathing was dangerous around here.

“Alphonse…” Something in Hawkeye’s tone lured the dreamy grey eyes to her frowning face. “There is only so many times my glares and General Armstrong’s influence will be enough to convince them you two are harmless kids, only slightly rebellious because of your young age and difficult positions. I’ve tried to tell you many times and you still won’t listen.”

Hawkeye finished her glass abruptly and flicked her wrist to call the bartender to refill it. She waited for the dark man to leave before she picked up. “I refuse to see the both of you killed because somebody believes they would be praised for solving this ‘problem’ for the Fuhrer. They only need excuses. Each time you do something provocative, we see them think, evaluate, plot. They are waiting for the point where people will shake their heads and murmur it’s sad you two were bad seeds instead of protesting in your favor. If you let them, they will act. Please be more careful.”

It wasn’t Hawkeye’s usual cool matter-of-factness and it was a lot to process without a sober brain. Alphonse slowly picked through it. From Hawkeye, those words were the equivalent of a heartfelt confession. She had just expressed the extent of her concern and frustration. Further more, she had admitted she had been protecting them as best as she could and was scared for their lives. Alphonse had always believed the only person who was ever allowed a look at the woman’s feelings – assuming she had them - was Winry.

“We never wanted all of you to be involved,” murmured Al in excuse. “None of you have to try to help us.”

“It is our choice. We will decide if we want to be involved or not.” The nearly emotionless tone was back with the usual crisply spoken facts. “Havoc and Breda only have to say a word to be transferred to another unit. They have been with me for years now. They know what it is all about. They prefer to stay. Respect that.”

“I suppose we’ve been a little too concentrated on ourselves to see what we are doing to you.” Alphonse felt contrite for getting upset at the women earlier. She was doing her best to help and he was too focused on raving to be grateful. “I was just blaming my brother for caring only about his own problems and disregarding his mood’s effect on me, and now I’m doing the same to you…how ironic.”

The woman granted Alphonse some more time to reflect over the whole mess. “I need to call home to let Winry know where I am,” she said, heading for a faraway corner where a phone waited.

It left Alphonse alone at the bar, everybody else having already retired. It was on the week after all, not the usual days for late drinking. The boy found his glass empty when he brought it to his lips. It took him a certain time to understand the concept of an empty glass.

“Another one please,” Al asked, pushing the empty glass toward the red-eyed man. The Ishvarith ignored him, conscientiously cleaning glasses and putting them away one by one. Alphonse dropped his head on his bent arms, feeling cold radiate through his sleeve from the automail, and eyed the man thoughtfully. “Are you telling me you think I had enough?”

There were no answer, but it was clear enough.

Alphonse sighed, “Look at me, I’m apparently so pathetic all the slaves around think I need to be mothered.” A small smile softened his words. “Oh well, I bet you do know better than me anyway. Can I have water then?” This new requested was swiftly answered. Alphonse had to giggle, if only weakly. “Thanks.”

-

The hour passed entirely too fast. Paninya had to be the first woman Roy didn’t mind hanging around after sex – and the sex itself had been pleasantly playful. Paninya was intelligent and had much to offer in a conversation. She also didn’t mind detailing how her automail worked for Roy’s personal curiosity. Roy learned the maker was a man named Dominic, an amazing automail mechanic who had taken Paninya in after she’d lost her parents and three limbs in a train wreck.

“Dominic could become rich with his skills but he only wants to make automail for people he thinks really need it,” explained Paninya while they came down the stairs, heading back to the bar. “When he has extra money, he uses it to donate automail to people like me.”

“It’s incredibly generous of him.”

“Yeah.” She flexed her automail. “These things are worth more than my life. I’m working on paying him back. He doesn’t approve of my methods but it’s a nice job.”

“Oh?”

“I work for some woman. Black market and all that.” Paninya took a minute to call for a drink. “Actually, she’s a mongrel too. She doesn’t let that fact get in her way at all.”

A mongrel female with attitude on the black market? Roy could name one. “Her name wouldn’t happen to be Lyra, would it?”

“It is,” confirmed Paninya, turning curious green eyes to him. “You know her?”

“Somewhat.” He knew what she looked like naked at least, thanks to Hughes and his picture obsession. Speaking of Hughes… Roy glanced around. “Did you see our friends?”

Paninya climbed on her seat and narrowed her eyes in the low light, searching. She pointed to a corner. “Over there.”

They made their way over to find Hughes and Paninya’s friend in deep conversations. They both seemed to…sparkle. Roy rubbed his forehead; maybe Armstrong had broken his brain for good. Further investigation revealed that Hughes and the girl with glasses were speaking of their respective obsessions. Pictures in Hughes’ case, books for the girl, whose name was Sheska.

“It’s so horrible when they prohibit books,” was currently mourning Sheska. “It becomes so difficult to find them! I’m lucky to work with Miss Lyra, I have all sort of contacts to find books now. No matter how rare, I eventually get it. It’s wonderful!”

“Shez,” interrupted Paninya, pulling on the girl’s hair and dragging her away. “Come on, it’s about time to go home. We have work tomorrow.”

“Aiii, that hurts Paninya!”

“It was nice talking to you, Sheska,” said Hughes.

“Bye Roy!” Paninya waved with her automail. “See you around, maybe!”

Roy smiled and held up a hand in goodbye as the door closed on the girls. Then Roy scoffed at his friend. “You two were here the entire time, weren’t you? Did you even try to get her upstairs?”

Hughes shrugged. “Not interested. We had fun just talking.”

“You’re still fixating on Gracia,” accused Roy. “Get it through your thick skull, she’s a blondie. She’s not available.”

Hughes sneered at his friend’s words. “Follow your own advice, Mustang.”

Roy frowned. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Gee, I wonder.”

There was no explanation forthcoming and Roy had the definite impression his friend was making fun of him. “Hughes!”

Ignoring the growl, Hughes waved a hand and a pack of pictures appeared out of thin air. “Look, pictures! You haven’t seen those yet!”

Roy gave a long-suffering moan that sounded curiously like his friend’s name.

Half an hour later, Roy decided to take drastic measures to protect his sanity, declaring that they were going home, damnit. He could stand the pictures of naked girls, but when Hughes started picking on himself and Fury, it was enough.

“But look! That’s you under the flour! You look good with a pale tone, don’t you think? Though I believe that’s the incident that got Farman to ban you from the kitchen…”

“It was entirely your fault, not mine!”

Hughes reached to try and pat Roy’s head; the shorter mongrel ducked. “Now, now, it’s okay. We know you’re prone to accidents in the kitchen. It’s nothing to be ashamed off.”

Roy batted Hughes’ hand away with an insulted growl. “Lay off, I got better.”

“Right. At least you stopped setting everything on fire. I still haven’t figured out how you burned water really…” He wiped out another picture. “Oh, and I have this one too where - ”

“Enough!” Roy stood and caught Maes collar, dragging him toward the exit. “If you try to start another pack, I’m going to go insane!”

“I don’t think anybody would call you sane in the first place.”

“Shut up.”

The moon was only half full, its rays painting the streets a ghostly silver, and clouds occasionally stole its light. It made every corner darker and more dangerous, but empty streets were never a concern for Roy and Maes. They were far too used to keeping an eye on their surroundings and Hughes had wonderful reaction time with his precious knives – or shinies, as he liked to call them. Any attacker would regret picking on them.

They spoke little, footsteps echoing as they walked past several bodies curled against the walls; elders, women and children, all trying to find out how to sleep on the hard concrete. Few men, because they had the strength to work difficult jobs and could afford a minimum of comfort, like shelter. The majority of the homeless had dark hair; they were all mongrels aside from a few unlucky commoners. Poverty could hit even those born with privileges.

They encountered a body on their way, a small form curled on itself in the middle of an alley. Hughes paused and crouched, simply verifying that the child was dead. The blood and torn clothes said enough on what had happened. Rape, or prostitution gone bad.

“Another one. They don’t get sick of killing kids I guess.” With a fatalistic sigh, Hughes moved on while Roy remained on the spot, thoughtfully looking down at the dead child. When he noticed his friend’s absence at his side, Hughes glanced back. “Problem, Roy?”

“He kind of looks like Fury, doesn’t he?”

“Eh?” Hughes pushed his glasses up with a finger and backtracked to look at the victim once more. “Yeah, I suppose he does. Aside from all the blood and the broken neck that is. Fury was pretty scrawny too when we picked him up.”

Roy stepped over the corpse and they went on their way. “It was a good thing we did.”

“Says the guy who didn’t want to keep him.” Hughes raised his arms mockingly. “Stop picking up strays you said. But you sure didn’t mind when I took interest in you.”

Roy didn’t react to the teasing. “Yeah…”

“You’re moody,” observed Hughes, voice suddenly serious.

“Am I?” Roy shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just thinking.”

-

Weee, finally got around to uploading everything that\'s done so far. I\'ll try to remember to upload recent chapters as they come. Sorry for the lack of italics for thoughts and stuff, aff.net and my computer don\'t get along. -_-

Randomly, I\'m one of those people who really like CC, so feel free to criticize. I\'m trying to learn English here, help me out. :p