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"Brother! What do you mean you haven't seen him the entire time you've been in Central? You moved there three weeks ago!"
Edward held the phone lazily about a foot away from his ear as he only half-listened to what his younger brother was saying. The small office he sat in had more boxes than floorspace, most of the boxes stacked along the wall. The desk he sat at looked like a bomb of papers and books had hit it, but Ed knew where every little thing was... somewhere, in the chaos of it. When Al was done 'scolding' him, he finally put the phone back to his ear and leant back in his seat, closing his eyes. "Central is a big city. I'm a busy man." His voice was blunt and monotone, but Al heard the tone of <i>lying</i>. He always did, when it was Ed.
"You're afraid."
"I'm not afraid!" He yelled, jumping back to sit up. "It'll just be all awkward, we've barely talked this whole time --"
"--And who's fault is that, Edward?! -- " Al cut in.
"Shut up!" He was getting angrier by the second. "--And he's like twenty years older than me --" There was a muttered <i>That's an exhageration</i>, from the other line that Ed ignored. "--We have nothing in common, I have no use for anything in the military. What are we gonna talk about, Al?! Women?!" He let out a twisted laugh at that remark, though only Al would know why.
There was silence, and then a long sigh from Al. "Fine. Don't tell him," He gave in.
Ed narrowed his eyes at the picture in the frame on his desk -- specifically, at Al's smiling face in the picture. "No. Don't do it."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Edward." Al's voice sounded bored -- but it was forced, Ed knew he was trying to mask that he was up to something. Al was an open book. "Oh, Winry needs my help! I gotta go. I'll talk to you later, Ed!"
Ed yelled Al's name but it was too late, Al had already hung up the phone. The blonde slammed the phone back onto the receiver. He knew what that meant. He <i>knew</i> Al had kept contact with <i>him</i> since they'd gone back to Risembool to rehabilitate and heal after the events of getting Al's body back, and Ed's arm. Edward had only kept contact through awkwardly written letters that were vague and didn't include much, like he was talking to an acquaintance -- not the man who had put the idea into his head and sparked the biggest journey of his life, to fix what he'd done to Al and himself. The letters were almost as if to say, <i>Still alive. Haven't caused trouble. No cities were blown up. Don't send military.</i>
It was time to go for the day, Ed decided. He didn't think Mustang cared enough to come here immediately if Al told him -- and Ed was positive Al was already on the phone -- but, he still didn't want to be here. Or home. He didn't trust Al to not mention where he was living or --
Fuck. That <i>bastard</i> already knew what Ed was doing because he <i>told him.</i>
This entire thing just ground his gears more and more. He threw his coat on, pulled the hood up and left, heading out of the building and into the chilly weather.
<hr>
There was a knock on the door to Roy Mustang's office, and then it promptly opened and Riza slipped in quietly. "Sir," She greeted quietly. "There's a phone call for you." She looked at the phone on his desk before quickly looking back at him and her eyes softened a little bit. "It's Alphonse." Only her superior knew her well enough to see the tug at the corners of her lips as she tried to not show it. "I don't think you want to pass this phone call, Sir." Unlike most phone calls, this time Riza stayed. A suspicious move. She was waiting for something -- for him to hear whatever caused Alphonse to call, perhaps.
When the phone was finally picked up, Alphonse's voice greeted the line with his usual cheer. "Good afternoon, Sir!"
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