Thank you for your resumes, gentlemen.
"Hey, Ed, you're awfully cheery this morning."
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.
There are things he cannot allow Greed to do.
And everyone knows, when a homunculus is in trouble, there’s only one place to go!
Stay observant! Amestris needs you!
Greed has one, fundamental, flaw.
I know we're going to wind up in our power roles again and again, claws out, dipping hard, down into flesh that sprouts the sanctity of red, red, blood.
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.
After all, one didn't have a high ranking officer fall into one's lap every day, and Greed was not one to squander someone with that much potential.
Tomorrow: having to talk to fucking Hohenheim. The day after tomorrow: the apocalypse. No pressure, eh?
Hadn't he survived a month on a deserted island when he was ten, equipped only with a little knife and one pair of shorts? He was tough. He was rugged. He could fall asleep anywhere. He could totally do this.
Ed tilted his head down, looked up under Greed's bangs — and there, he saw a familiar, shaky grin.