He was also certain that if he gave in and laughed, Edward would hang up and never speak to him again.
There was a foul, slightly decaying scent that lingered cloyingly in his nose even after he turned his head to the fresh breeze.
He wanted to be able to do something like that; tangle limbs and lips and know what it was like to not have a responsibility.
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
She preferred mechanical work for just that reason; at least you knew with relative certainty what automail was going to do when you did something to it.
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
Winry sucked in a gasp, and dropped backward in shock.