"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."
It was well known around Central headquarters that Roy Mustang was lusting after the visiting Major-General.
“Envy,” she murmured in her brother’s ear. “I need a favor.”
Zinnsoldat, they named it, the Tin Soldier, in reference to their former service and in acknowledgement of their current uselessness.