The arrogant expression on the bastard's face was almost enough to renew Greed's desire for the bomber's immediate death. However, even through the condescending tone of the words, there was some truth in them, enough to make the homunculus reflect on his sad lack of subordinates as of late.

There was Mustang, of course, but he wasn't too willing to be an apprentice... yet. There was that long-haired guy--Vincent--and Schuldig, too, but... hell, Schuldig was almost as bad as Kimbley.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, but then again, beggars didn't have to be stupid either. (And besides, Greed would die before he called himself one of those.)

"Yeah, so maybe you're useful." Greed smirked. "Doesn't mean a damn thing if you're a rat."

Still, the temptation was there, and stronger than Greed wanted to admit. Back home, sure, he'd tear the man limb from limb without a second thought, but that was because back home he'd actually be able to.