"You can't feel this," Greed allowed, shaking his hand out once to loosen a cramp from gripping a glass and trying not to break it before clenching a fist. "But you need it."

With that, he reared back, letting the other see the punch coming and going right for the helmet, aiming to knock it off and putting enough force behind it to earnestly try to blow through whatever raised arms or defense he might try.


Okay. It was true: a part of his motive may have been to actually see inside the armor, in person, for the first time. But he really did believe the stupid kid needed to be punched in the face, as if that'd really put some sense back into him even without feeling it. Greed was just a painfully opportunistic sort.