"Don't give me that crap," Greed spat, digging his claws further into Kimbley's arm as if to emphasize his distaste. "You have the tattoos now and they don't work, so how the hell is any other alchemy gonna be different?"

The homunculus may not have cared much for the hag or the teachings she'd forced upon the creatures she'd birthed, but he'd remembered enough about alchemy to know when he was being fed bullshit and when he wasn't. (Of coure, given Dante's tendencies towards lies herself, he could never be completely sure what had been real and what hadn't, but goddammit if he was going to give Kimbley the benefit of the doubt.)