There was a foul, slightly decaying scent that lingered cloyingly in his nose even after he turned his head to the fresh breeze.
It was the truth, but it sounded lame upon Edward's lips; the way her eyes hooded, she seemed to think so, anyway.
He was not ready to be an uncle! He was ready, however, to hit things and curse.
He was also certain that if he gave in and laughed, Edward would hang up and never speak to him again.
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.
Winry sucked in a gasp, and dropped backward in shock.
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.