Something was definitely amiss.
"Havoc's gonna drive me," Ed insisted.
"Just like every afternoon this week," Breda groused. "We had a lunch routine, you're messin' it up."
"You just want dibs on that corner table."
"It's not my fault the other tables can't fit a wheelchair!"
"Well," Ed argued, "today they've got PT together."
"Didn't you have PT this morning?" Feury asked, glancing at Havoc.
"Session with Doctor Marcoh," Jean replied with a smile, fishing a cigarette from his breast pocket. "Ready, Chief?"
"Yeah!" Ed leapt for the door, bounding out with a spring in his step. A spring that, Roy suspected, wasn't entirely related to visiting his newly-embodied brother.
Yes, something was amiss, and Roy Mustang was going to find out what.
"Sir, should we really be doing this?"
Roy sighed, exasperated. "Whatever those two are hiding, I'm certain it means trouble. I'd tail them alone if I could see that far."
"If you'd just wear glasses like Doctor Marcoh recommended—"
"Just stick your head out there and see what's going on."
Feury peered around the motor pool. It was easy to find them; Jean's was the only car with hand pedals for gas, brake and clutch, and so had an assigned space.
"Havoc's on the wrong side."
"The wrong side?"
"He got in the passenger side. And Ed's...getting in the driver's side?" Feury pulled back, horrified realization dawning. "You don't think..."
"It seems so," Roy murmured. "I'll have to make a call."
"General Mustang!" Alphonse chirped through the phone. "Major Hawkeye let you call during work?"
"It's my lunchbreak. I need to ask you a question, and I'd like you to answer honestly."
"Are you aware that Jean Havoc is teaching your brother to drive?"
"In a very unique car, which was costly to equip?"
"While your brother is still too young to be legally licensed?"
Alphonse squeaked guiltily.
"You knew about this, yet you didn't inform me. I thought we had a deal."
"I know I promised that if Ed did anything crazy I'd tell you, but he swore me to secrecy, and he's my brother, blood is thicker than, well, he got my body back and everything, please don't be angry with me!"
"Alphonse, you must realize that Edward behind the wheel of a very expensive and specialized military vehicle is a worrisome concept. What prompted him to ask Jean?"
"He's too short!" Al blurted.
"In the standard military cars, when Ed sits up straight he can't reach the pedals, and when he slouches he can't see the road. You won't tell him I told, will you? You know how he— Oh! Brother! How long have you been standing there?"
"WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?!" came Edward's shriek.
"Nobody, brother, nobody at all—"
The line went dead. General Roy Mustang sat back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips.
Suspicion confirmed—and the blackmail fodder was priceless.