Greed wasn't really a sadist. He wasn't really maladjusted either, or a psycho, or irrationally whiny and evil like the rest of his brethren tended to be.

He did take what he wanted, though, regardless of the consequences for himself or other people. He liked his plots to end up being easy enough on everyone, but civility wasn't something too high on his list of priorities. At the end of the day, sure, Greed would beat up a couple of kids for his own benefit because Greed didn't let anything stand between him and what he wanted.

And yet, some pompous bastard had.

"You don't fuck me over, Kimbley." Greed smirked with the kind of half-sane glint that came to his eyes when he indulged too fully in his sin. "You just don't."

Without much pause or ceremony, he slammed Kimbley's wrist into the floor and used his free claws to pry the man's fingers out of the fist he'd made. Greed then pushed the fingers down, he grinned, and with the claws that had been on the bomber's wrist, he raked through the flesh of one tattooed palm.

Greed wasn't really a sadist, but then again, most people weren't Kimbley.