"Who's taking his side?" Greed mumbled into his drink. Amittedly, finding out the kid hated Hohenheim had been instant endearment, and he was still baffled as to why the runt would really come right on over, no questions asked, to make himself useful, but if the Greed in their world was awesome enough that he himself could benefit from it, he wasn't going to go out of his way to break that association.

Then there was this uncooperative, uncute kid. Amethyst eyes darted over in a privately distasteful glare, when the unnaturally strained, miserable tone broke out like the armor was an iron maiden with an unfortunate young boy inside rather than the boy himself. Distaste turned to awkwardness.

He looked past the bar as if expecting the bar keep to still be there, to make her handle this. No luck. He looked left. He looked right.


As Al spoke, he twisted in his chair, looking hopelessly around the rest of the deserted bar for someone else to make deal with this, or to at least be his backup, before reluctantly looking at the sobbing suit in front of him.

He finished his drink in a single swallow.

People in a fit liked to elaborate. If he just sat there and shut up, maybe the kid would explain himself, try to rationalize his weird unloved delusions, and realize how messed up and nonsensical they were. If he just had to be a sounding board, he could at least manage that. Probably.

Ahhh, he needed a stiffer drink.