Comedy, slapstick, and (sometimes) bad puns.
The idiot prince still couldn't be bothered to figure out the different notes and coins, probably because he'd never actually paid for anything in his life.
To every outlandish, self-serving, and sometimes damn near suicidal thing that Edward Elric suggested, Jean Havoc would always reply mildly, with just a touch of good humor, "You're the boss."
Typical Ed; overprotective, hypocritical, condescending, and for some reason fundamentally incapable of treating Al as an equal.
At a large mahogany desk, polished to an almost jewel-like shine, sat Colonel Edward Elric, who was deep into his paperwork. Or at least that is how he appeared.
He mostly trusted his brother to be able to put a nearly-three-year-old to bed by himself, but...Al should probably check, just to be sure.
It was, and he hated to admit it, an intriguing proposal. Ed wondered who the General had leaned on to get it written in just such a way to make his alchemic blood tingle.
...Edward saw red - but he took a couple of deep breaths before answering. He knew a real kicker now, thanks to Hawkeye.
That was the problem with girls these days... they just didn't know how to deal with a little pain.
Roy stuck a finger in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it as he savored the heavy and rich fluid.
He decided, then, quite firmly, that he wasn't ever going to drink coffee again, with anybody. It was too risky.
Ling tried to cover his way with sly smiles and clever lines; he played at being a fool (and did it very well), when he was anything but.
Around two o'clock in the afternoon, women around the city began to disappear ... and a crowd, primarily of females, formed along Third Street.
Unfortunately, Winry's 'own devices' were becoming the death of Pinako's various household devices.
Let me start by saying that I love my grandchildren. Actually, they’re my great great grandchildren, but that’s repetitive and makes me sound old, so screw that.
"I like you a lot Al. I really do. It's just... you are kind of intimidating..." and seven feet tall, made of metal and a boy...
“Um, you must’ve learned that from Colonel Bastard. You’d better not be flashing that at the nurses. Or at me, ever, ever again.”
Ed jabbed accusingly with an automail finger — nearly putting out Mustang's eye as he did so — and shrieked, "You're a crossdresser!"
"Edward," Hawkeye said kindly, "has it occurred to you that you and Alphonse may be spending too much time alone?"
"Well... Brother does that, every so often. He really should think before he tries to attack people."
He underestimates the little things, like how long it will take him to put his socks on in the morning, and she comes up the stairs when breakfast is long since over to find him crouched over a torn stocking, blinking back furious tears...
Ed should have remembered this from that month on the island, back when he was a kid: you can only be in the great outdoors so long before you start dreaming of hot showers. And of dumping the people you're travelling with in them.
Not a fairy, then, Alfons thought in disappointment. The fairies in stories weren't usually so foul-mouthed and excitable, anyway.
She had heard all the lines before. Pinako was a female in a mostly male line of work, after all.
There were whispers behind him, words exchanged in a frantic flurry of hisses and low notes.
If armor could narrow its eyes, Ed knew Al would have been doing so.
It was an old argument — practically every night, the ritual sparring for who'd be in control.
After so many years in the dark, Edward Elric had discovered he had a libido after all, and it was unfortunately exacting its frustrated vengeance upon one Alphonse Elric.
"Just remind me, even if the alternative is to sleep on a ice cube, NEVER to share a bed with you again.
Smug, he'd stayed just long enough to give his report and then had marched straight off to Resembool with Al lagging behind.
"Bill for repair of said hotel after occupants of said room 'incited riot'?"
He'd lied in smoke filled bars. He'd hunted down lubricants in seedy stores that catered to the most iffy of clientele. Alfons had EARNED Ed's love.
With two younger sisters himself, he knew well that siblings quarreled, but never to this extent.
The sheer naughtiness of it all was unexpectedly exciting, and she found herself trembling even before the cold steel met her skin.
"So," said Ling. "I was thinking, perhaps my father can buy out Ed's contract."
His boyfriend. He wants me to be his boyfriend. He's wooing me with gifts. I'm being courted!
The Colonel narrowly saved himself the disgrace of fumbling for Edward's name (Id? Alex? Eowan?) by resorting, once again, to his title.
... 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.
He lay back on the couch (in Roy Mustang's office, where else?) and declared , "I'm not wearing this."
"You could have roped in the typing pool instead, they moon over the Colonel all the time."
It doesn’t disappoint, never does; Ed is standing on the corner when the car arrives, all sharp moody edges and obtrusively coloured blue shorts.
"What do you mean, you're PREGNANT?" Ed yelled through the door.
"I believe my exact words were, 'a microscopically short bean boy the size of a pin'."
"In case you hadn't noticed," Ed went on, poking Roy in the chest, "I am no longer twelve."
"When I walked in on you in the bath, Edward, I wasn't expecting Al to be there too."
Ed opened his mouth, and then closed it. "Visibility is that important to you, huh?" he said.