Gloved hands shot out and grabbed the book in question, dragging it off the shelf and holding it to the light.
Al's slightly hollow voice positively echoed with embarrassment but he bravely soldiered on...
According to Hughes, Major Mustang was close to promotion and as his subordinate, it was her prerogative to try and help him to reach the next rung of the ladder.
He tilted his jaw and the kid struck the match, lit it, lifted it to his cigarette.
Now Ed was into his favorite mode, bitch-at-the-bastard-father-who-ditched-us.
"Brother," he whispers into the soft warmth of Ed's skin, "Is mom going to get better?"
Ed's birthday had passed a little over a month ago, while they were still with Sensei.
The chi flows in its circuits through the body, just as blood pulses through the veins.
"I must savor every moment of every love letter I recieve to do the sender justice," Mustang said, before proceeding to open the letter.
"Stupid bullies," Ed grumbled, limping for a few steps before he remembered that he wasn't supposed to be feeling it. "Call me a girl, will they?"
The man looked like Shou Tucker -- the human man, not the chimera he'd become.
He was looking forward to the prospect of a hot meal in the cafeteria; even if it wasn't exactly home cooking, at least it was hot, and it was fresh.
All a very neat, very efficient system, Kessler thought; raw material and outgoing product in perfect balance, a regular production line built into flesh.
This is the smell of ozone from a lightning strike. This is fear.
Words entrance her: the workaday prose of school texts as much as the skylark flights of lyric or the measured music of story.
Around when the hour of nine rolls up to the door, fat as a bellied barfly, Roy has already taken his jacket off the hook and has gone outside to walk.
It was merely a battle of wills. He would win.
Bravado. Make them regret they ever talked to you.
They are his signposts and self-inscriptions, cordoning off the book as his own, as something he possesses.
"Yeah. Him again. The Colonel doesn't know when to quit, does he?"
Edward Elric was in an exceedingly bad mood.
He lifted his eyes to Ed's, returned Ed's even, blank gaze. "Brothers," he said. "That's what we are."
The feel of hands on his shoulders woke him, one metal and one flesh, and it was the chill in human fingers that told him how cold the night had grown while he slept.
Ed woke up slowly, and wished he hadn't.
... and the moral of the story is - well, I guess there's no moral to this story, it's just a bunch of stuff that happened. Kind of like the rest of this movie.
Ed glared at him, and Al sighed. Maybe today wouldn't be a good day for Edward after all.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
"What part of self-defense was it to write 'BIG FAT NINNY' on his forehead in permanent marker?"
It was beautiful, this pre-industrial world, with its white snows and ever-visible rainbows and the dazzling night sky. But it was also dreadful, seething with ignorance and man-made horrors.
The lilacs would wither all too soon, but until then she intended to indulge herself, carrying the scent of home with her wherever she went.
Al wonders, a little, what it's like to live inside Ed's head now.
When they are alone in the passenger car, the silence is both natural and oppressive.
If Al began to forget things, then Edward would remember anything and everything for the both of them.
Brother likes to pretend that he doesn't care what goes on in the military unless it directly affects him. Or, you know, directly offends him. One or the other.
The audience fades away; the chatters dies, their twin breaths are the soft herald of thunder to come.
Sometimes they race to see who can get to Winry's house faster.
Louis Alex Armstrong has been seriously wounded... BUT THE SOUL STILL BURNS.
"If you hadn't messed in the mud to get the cat," he pointed out, "your hands wouldn't be so cold. Give me your other."
He just carries himself with a certain atmosphere, one that feels like splinters of buildings falling off walls and landing broken or the smell of roasted flesh.
Alphonse worried, but was rapidly won over by his brother's promises.
It was only after the sheer sensation had abated — only when he felt on solid enough ground to focus on the subtleties of life once more — that the habit began to catch his attention.
What he remembered of ice cream, more than the taste, was how messy it had always been.
Al thought of Martel, of Nina. He didn't want to be a chimera.
"Each State Alchemist gets two subordinates; one foot soldier and one sniper," the General droned, organizing the files into a neater state in their folder and walking over to hand them to Mustang.
You hide it well behind your bluster and your sulks, but the workings of your mind are at once cunningly devious and ruthlessly simple.
And of course, he does not believe in God anyway, and scorns the idea of predestination.
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
And everyone knows, when a homunculus is in trouble, there’s only one place to go!