Having wandered his way around the halls looking at the doors themselves, Hohenheim had amused himself by tinkering with the metal hinges and knobs until his nurse came by to tell him to stop doing such. She was such a pleasant woman telling him off for staring and touching doors. He supposed it was a very odd activity to take up, but they were supposed to be in a mental institute. Obsessive-compulsive behaviour and fascination with odd materials should have been a normal activity here.

When it was clear that he had no visitor, he had decided to look into finding his second eldest son. Not in the cafeteria or the sun room or the games room, and so he decided that it would have to be the library. All he had to ask himself was, 'where would I go when I was Edward's age?' Yes, the library would have been his choice.

Peering around, he nearly was distracted by the books themselves, but he had made himself around and found a few odd stacks of books. Edward apparently hadn't grown too much here, but the books were enough.

He walked over and picked up one of the books, peering at the spine before flipping open the pages expertly with one hand as he adjusted his glasses with the other. "Good afternoon, Edward."