damned_institute | Day 28: Bus 1

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Day 28: Bus 1

Zelgadis was not happy, at all. Not that this was any change, but the events of the past few hours had given him more to angst about than usual. Nightshift had been dreadful: first he was attacked by a small green man and then covered in leeches, neither of which lead to warm fuzzy feelings.

And now this.

When the nurse had come into his room with new clothes he had a small glimmer of hope-- some thief had taken his normal Landel's wear in the night, so perhaps this was a change in luck. However, it was not the godsend he had hoped for. Minus the threat of sedation, there was nothing in the universe that could make Zelgadis wear a bright lemon-yellow shirt. There was a jacket of a slightly more tasteful variety, so Zelgadis made good us of it-- he put all his coupons in a pocket and pulled up the hood. It was almost as good as his cloak. Well, no it wasn't, but it would have to do.

With mild protesting, Zelgadis was lead to a large yellow vehicle. He climbed the stairs, took a seat towards the back, and readied himself for another frustrating day of being attacked and threatened with spoons.

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It sounded like Kimbley had been keeping pretty busy, and he actually filled in a blank for Roy. Had Greed been distracted from coming to meet him because he had been out for the Crimson Alchemist's blood? It was definitely possible, and the colonel got the feeling that he would need to talk to the man and make him understand that the mission first priority over his need for revenge.

That conversation would go over well, he was sure.

The mention of explosives made him more nervous than he let on. He knew better than anyone what Kimbley was capable of, and he would rather not to be witness to it again. It was better not to comment on it, though.

"Nothing too exciting," he responded, still keeping his gaze on the window. There wasn't much to look at, and he had to wonder when the bus would get moving. "Just wanted to do some looking around." He needed to figure out what doors those keys opened, but it had somehow become quite the lengthy process.

... this was the least explosive and most boring conversation he'd had with Roy in a long time. Time to start digging in the proverbial claws.

"Just looking around? That doesn't sound like you." Kimbley reached into the bag he'd been given and pulled out the muffin. It looked edible, but not exactly appetizing. "Here I thought you'd have legions of followers by now, organized into ranks and striking out at your command. Or has your natural charisma failed you already?"

Even if that didn't get a rise out of Mustang, he still had a few ideas left in store. After all, Greed and Roy seemed to have known each other well before he got here - and that could only mean a few things.

The barb from Kimbley would have been more effective if it had been true. It was enough to get Roy to send a glance over at the man seated next to him, though, and he looked almost amused.

"You really haven't been paying attention, have you?" The Cooking group was gaining members and he wasn't exactly keeping it a secret. He had been advertising it, in fact. Then again, if the other alchemist didn't spend much time reading over the posts on the bulletin board, he could have easily missed all of it.

Either way, it was nice to pull the "I-know-something-you-don't-know" card.

Oh, he'd read the bulletin boards - Roy was in charge of something. How many times had Kimbley been tempted to go over and make his own comments, plant the seeds of doubt in the minds of all those moralistic little idiots who pledged themselves so blindly to working in groups, trying to arm themselves and trading information ... but he'd avoided it until now.

He smirked right back at Roy, his eyes never leaving the other alchemist's face. Yes, there was something interesting about that left eye. He'd have to ask about it.

"Oh, I've been paying attention." The smirk quirked up a bit. "And despite having all those so-called allies, you clearly aren't getting much done if you've got time to linger in your room."

"I wasn't lingering," Roy said with a sigh as he closed both eyes, perhaps having subconsciously noticed the way Kimbley had been examining them. There was still no movement, but it probably took a long time to get all of the patients situated and onto the buses, especially if some of them were making foolish escape attempts.

"In any case, it's none of your business." Kimbley hadn't shown any interest in the group thus far, so he didn't see why he would now. He was likely just trying to get to him in some way or another, seeing how his verbal jabs hadn't been working thus far.

"It might be my business." It was his business if Roy was involved with it. "What if I wanted to join one of your groups? Help the weak and useless arm themselves in a coordinated attempt to get out of here ... or is there a 'no psychopaths allowed' clause?"

(He wouldn't really be surprised if there was. Roy'd dealt with enough of them that it might be habitual for the bastard to refuse anyone with a past in enjoying death.)

"So what happened to your eye?" Kimbley switched topics like there hadn't even been an original discussion. Besides, he was curious - and if it got him killed, at least he'd go down with new knowledge.

As for Kimbley's offer to join, Roy was torn between having expected it and having figured the bomber was too far up on his high horse to even suggest it. Then again, he had certainly wanted back into the military bad enough -- maybe he just liked the security of being part of a group effort.

There wasn't much point in trying to analyze the man, however. Roy looked the other alchemist over and let out a sigh. "I can already foresee a number of ways that your 'help' could turn into a disaster. It wouldn't be right to trust you to work with others." It would be his fault if someone ended up dead because Kimbley was with them -- it wasn't a risk he was willing to take.

When his eye was mentioned, Roy was almost taken by surprise. Kimbley hadn't chosen to bring it up, and he had figured it would stay that way. He frowned and held back another sigh. "It's a long story."

"We've got time," Kimbley said, ignoring the fact that Roy essentially blew him off on the subject of joining one of the little groups that had been built up. He didn't really want to join one, anyway, and if Roy ever let him, he'd just wind up getting someone killed or crippled for the hell of it. And then he'd have even more people after his blood.

Just like old times, hm?

Now his curiosity about Roy's eye was in full force. He wanted the story, and as the transport they were on rumbled to life - startling him a bit as he looked out the window - he knew that they had at least enough time for Roy to start. And he could always ask him later, once they were off this thing.

After having to explain what happened to him so many times already, he really didn't want to get onto that subject again - especially not with Kimbley of all people. Allowing the Crimson Alchemist any form of power was a bad idea, and information could certainly be a form of power.

The not-train started up then, and Roy stiffened slightly when he felt it vibrating beneath him. It felt different from a train ride; there was more of a steady rumble, and it made another sort of sound. All in all, the ride was smoother, but he wasn't used to it.

The colonel looked out the window again, being on the side of the bus that was facing the rock face. All in all, it wasn't that interesting, which meant that he couldn't feign distraction.

"I'll be blunt. I don't really want to get into it again, and I want to tell you even less." Kimbley appreciated the straight-forward approach, didn't he? Maybe he'd leave it alone.

Doubtful.

Well, well. For once, Roy wasn't using his diplomatic tongue-twisters to keep Kimbley back and seething. The straightforwardness, while not necessarily unusual, was enough to give Kimbley a moment of pause, eyebrows raised; clearly, it was a sore subject. Something that really bothered Roy to the point where it might even be crucial for him not to tell Kimbley for fear of ... oh, another power struggle, maybe?

That just meant he had to get the story out one way or another. And since the polite way hadn't worked, it was time to go back to his usual tactics.

"If you say so," Kimbley said, turning away from Roy and leaning his head back against the seat, eyes closing. "I'll just get the story out of someone else." Or use deductive reasoning on his own, but where was the fun in that? Nobody would get hurt that way.

The bluntness seemed to have worked, at least to some extent. Kimbley had just moved on to subtle threats, but they wouldn't work quite so well this time.

"Not very many people know," he said, remaining serious instead of giving into the urge to rub the other's disadvantage in his face. While some might have found Roy's secretiveness about his changes overly paranoid, he was gladder than ever that he had kept it to himself -- for the most part, anyway. Hughes knew, Greed naturally knew, and Hawkeye had an inkling of what was going on. A few other patients had vague details, but only those from Amestris and its surrounding countries could really understand the specifics.

Soon the bus would be arriving in town and he wouldn't have to dodge the other's inquiries anymore. Provided Kimbley didn't follow him around, though that really wasn't the man's style.

"Oh, I'm sure someone I'm in contact with knows." Although if that eye was any hint, he'd never find out from someone else. Purple only meant two things: you were a fucking freak, or you had strange genetics. Being that he'd known Roy for some years, Kimbley could easily throw away that second option.

A glance out the window told him that they were getting closer to the town - it would only be a matter of minutes, now. He doubted Roy was going to say anything else to him, and really? He'd used up all his inquiries. (Even if they hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.) There was no point in stalking Roy all over the town; it would be a waste of opportunities.

Nightfall would be different, though.

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Day 28: Bus 1

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