It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
Zinnsoldat, they named it, the Tin Soldier, in reference to their former service and in acknowledgement of their current uselessness.
“Envy,” she murmured in her brother’s ear. “I need a favor.”
"I am using this spirit gum to stick this necklace over my tattoo. Now stop poking your nose down my cleavage and give me some privacy, Envy."