Al should've never told his mother the box was a present for Winry.
He has seen the desert. Seen her scorched and scarred beneath his steady hands. Stepped in her tattered remains, tasted her ashes with every breath.
Winry could not imagine going so far for someone whose name you couldn't even say. She couldn't imagine going so far without allowing yourself to say his name.
Grandfathers should want different things for their grandchildren, shouldn't they?
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
Tonight it is a comforting chatter, in a strange way, that takes Lan Fan's mind away from Young Master's perhaps impossible goal.
Greed reached out for whatever proved she was undeniably, unrepentantly alive.
The last thing she remembers of him was his voice begging a stranger to keep her safe. Begging for her useless life.
To her, the Philosopher's Stone is blood and fire: his fire, her blood.