Greed knew the bitch had always been one to talk, but damn. It was like the bastard had to make up for his lack of a backbone with a bunch of baits and insults, and though Envy usually knew how to rile the other homunculus up, he seemed to be focusing on sheet-guy enough at the moment that Greed could stand back and see how ridiculous the other's tactics were.

Brigadier General, huh? No wonder Greed didn't care for the guy, though if Envy was picking on him, maybe there was something likable to be found in his uptight military face. In any case, Greed was sick and fucking tired of hearing Envy's self-absorbed rambling, and knew that if he interjected, he'd get violent along with it. So, instead, he moved to grab his food tray from the nearby table, (it was lighter than usual for the fact that he only had one hand to carry it with), glaring murder at the other sin's back as he tried to find a seat close enough to him to keep an eye on him but far enough that he couldn't smell his proverbial stench.

Mustang's question found him first, however, and though it caught him off-guard, he smirked in response to it.

"Yeah," he muttered, though his voice was loud enough for the other homunculus to hear. "Bitch, moan, bitch. Or help seal you up for a hundred years. Whatever works to piss you off."