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There were few things Edward Elric hated more than the pompous, gaudy nights where he was forced to attend yet another banquet. He loathed them, the faceless, the bedizen of the random, faceless people that pretended to be more important than they really were.
He knew why he had to be here, because he'd had a pretty bad accident a week ago that made people think he died, and him being here proved he was just fine. Not that he would ever admit he wasn't. Both of his stumps ached tonight, partly from too much walking, partly because he had a bad cut on the stump of his right shoulder, where the metal dug in, requiring stitches. He was bruised to hell and back, and had to hold himself extra tightly because of his broken rib.
Frankly, he shouldn't be standing, walking, or being paraded around like some freak show attraction, yet he was here anyways. Bribery, he thought with no small amount of bitterness, was a powerful tool.
Mustang had found something, apparently, some kind of lead that was being kept very hush hush because of military corruption. He was willing to pass on the lead, but first, Ed had to play a good little dog and pretend to care about the military and some random general getting a promotion.
So, while he would normally be in his dorm room, laying on the floor so that he could read by firelight, or at the library trying to squeeze in just a few more chapters before it closed to for night, he was stuck here instead. Thankfully, he was allowed to wear his typical all black plus his red coat, because it was iconic and helped him stand out, like he wasn't already.
Still, the promise of a lead could only do so much. He sat, instead, by himself with a plate full of food, trying to keep his exhaustion hidden under his stubbornness. He had no idea if it was working or not, but no one was bothering him, so he supposed he was doing a good job.
If Al were here, he would probably have something to say about his brothers behavior, maybe something about him getting more grouchy with age. Not that it would be wrong. Edward had indeed noticed his mood tanking more and more every year, but as long as he didn't take it out on Al, he supposed it didn't matter.
Frankly, he thought with bored golden eyes that scanned the room lazily, the Bastard should be extremely glad that he was just sitting quietly. He could have been causing chaos, could have been cursing out certain vultures that deserved it, but instead, he was letting them take his his picture while he tried to keep his face uninterested.
Hopefully, they would be able to get through at least one event without someone trying to commit murder.
Though, as his sharp eyes spotted something strange outside of one of the windows, he was starting to suspect that wouldn't be the case.
Fuck Mustang and his fucking favors.
Fuck everybody.