automailed | [Action / Voice]

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[Action / Voice]

[Talk about one hell of a morning. Waking up to the draft is bad enough, though truth be told he's kind of grateful for the distraction. But when Edward goes to visit his father's room to fill him in on the news in case he's unaware, he finds it empty, lacking any sign of the man ever living there. He stands in the doorway for a long moment, mulling over how exactly he's supposed to feel about this, then opts to push those feelings aside, shutting the door behind himself and returning to his own room. After the draft, he'll start packing; he isn't sure where he'll go just yet, but he knows that he won't be staying in this house anymore. There's... nothing left for him here. The last of his family is gone.

In his room, he goes to his journal, scrawling out a quick filter directed at his superior, but it fails. He frowns, tries again, only to get the same result. He has no idea where the colonel lives, but the malfunction seems to be answer enough about what's happened.

So. Moving on. Stubbornly he stuffs the journal into his coat pocket, shrugging it on and heading over to the house across the street, to check on the Hughes' family. With Elicia on the draft as well, certain things will need to be discussed. Unfortunately, more bad news will await him once he reaches the door.

All three. All three of them in one day, just... gone.

It isn't until later on that he finally returns to the journal, this time with a public announcement.]

Van Hohenheim, Roy Mustang, and... Maes Hughes... have all returned to their world. Just wanted to let everyone know.

If anyone's looking for a sparring partner to get ready for the draft, I'll be at the Battle Dome. Second room, assuming it's open.

[And true to his word, that's where he'll be for most of the afternoon; the rest of the day will be spent at the Hughes' house trying to help what's left of his (extended) family deal with this painfully familiar loss. He can be found at any of the locations mentioned and will be seeking out certain friends and castmates.]

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[He pauses for a moment at that. He wants to jump on it, actually, but at the same time... he doesn't.

What if he regrets it later?]

...You sure about that?

If you're uncomfortable you can always leave. It's not like we'd keep you there.

Yeah, I know.

[And... well, it's not entirely that he'd be uncomfortable, though he's wary about what his presence there would mean. For... certain things. Mostly involving exes and an already-grieving family. But he wasn't about to invite himself, either.]

...I'll think about it. Not like I can do anything until after the draft's done, anyway.

Right...

Be careful, okay?

Don't worry. If I can survive the Promised Day, I'm not going to let some stupid draft kill me.

Well if you're not worried about being killed then worry about the condition of your body! Do you want another automail limb?

...Winry, I've already got three. How many arms do you think I need?

I meant don't get your remaining flesh limbs taken off, idiot!

[Ergh.]

I-I wouldn't lose another limb in a fight, that's pointless!

Not on purpose! But... crazy things happen out there.

[She knows. Her leg is still scarred.]

[Yeah, he knows. He's got his fair share of scars too. And her response makes him fall silent for a moment, because he remembers how she came back that time, too.]

...Sorry. [Another pause, and then:] I could use my mechanic, though, if you're not busy.

a mechanic is never too busy for her customers.

Haha, with a policy like that, you'd never get a break. [The smile is brief, though- he sobers up again, scratching the back of his neck.] I gotta switch out my automail before I head out. Figured it'd be better if I got the pro to do it.

Do you want to come over to the shop, or have me do it at your place?

Well... usually I wouldn't mind heading over there, but both of the limbs are in the house already, so you might as well come over. I've got tools from before, though, so you don't need to bring anything.

I'll be there soon.

[And after a reasonable amount of time there will be a knock at his door.]

[It takes him a moment, but soon enough the door opens, and Edward moves aside to let her in. He's looking tired, and a little frazzled, and there are boxes scattered here and there in the living room, the house itself looking like he's done a lazy sweep of what to keep or rid himself of. It was a lot easier when he just burned the place down.]

Hey. Sorry to call you out here.

You know you should let me know these things beforehand. Is there a place I can work on you without ruining the furniture for future tenants?

I've got a work area in my room, come on. [He nudges a box away from the stairs to lead the way up, guiding the route to the first bedroom. The other bedroom - AKA Hohenheim's study - seems to have a hole punched through the center of the closed door, but Ed doesn't even look at it. His bedroom has a table in the corner with a toolbox, a pair of automail limbs, and some scattered tools, and he heads right to it.]

[Winry follows. She... has never been in his room before, wow.]

Huh, you'd think you didn't want anybody to know you had automail with this secret work place in your room.

Secret? I just wanted it out of the way. This is in case I got called out to fight and you or Sokka weren't available.

[It's the first time he's acknowledged Sokka as a back-up mechanic. His preference is pretty obvious, though.]

[She elbows him in the side before hurrying over to the little work space.]

I was kidding, idiot. [Now to admire/judge/whatever you have here. The smithy has spoiled her, so she probably finds this all lacking.]

[Kidding... grumble. As for the work bench, it's a pretty limited supply, but it had come from the smithy, so some of the stuff might be familiar. He didn't steal her tools or anything, though. (He knows better.)]

Haruhi said I should use the red one up there. It's going to come in handy again.

[Any excuse to use the badass blaze metal arm, which he'd had switched out when it started getting too hot. His enthusiasm is slightly lacking with all that's happened, though.]

That's probably best. I've read that space is pretty much a cold vacuum.

[Blame Donatello. He got her reading about space ships a long while back. She starts to get everything in place as if this was her own work area, and not some spot in Ed's room.]

[He lets her do whatever she wants with his work space; it'll get cleared out pretty soon anyway. He sits down in the stool beside the bench, tugging his shirt and pants off first to give her full access to the automail.]

She mentioned that, too. I'm going to head over to the library later to try and read up on what it'll be like up there, if I can.

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