[The bands on his wrist jingle to a stop as the other remarks on his previous host. Greed lifts his shoulders up with a slouch and his feet pivot out in opposite direction. The hand hovering over one of the odd critters nestled up on the couch retracts; slowly, each finger closing back into his smooth of his palm.] Little bit of a brat, if you ask me. Disrespecting me like that - [However slight, however small, there is an air of a compliment there. Impressed - there's no use denying it, not when there's only seventy-two hours to his name.]
[Then? Then, well what. Whatever else was lurking for him around the bend.] Ling Yao - Prince of a country aside Amestris. Emperor by now, if they took the opportunity. [Greed's waving his hand, waltzing through his counterpart's digs like he could own the place. Which he does, in another life. It's some sort of strange irony.]
[From what he's gathered, his partner is a mirror. A reflection of himself, but not quiet there. There's broken pieces in the proverbial mirror and one stark difference - one sliver that's sharper than the rest: human. Least, he had been. That's how the story seems to go and the Sin can't imagine it. Being something else, living a mortal existence. Only to be changed to someone else's whims by an Alchemist with enough juice to be successful.]
[It's almost pitiable. Had he been someone else.]
[But he's not, they're not. Monsters, stories out of a textbook. The writings different, the stories aren't quite right. But it all boils down to the same in the end. Greed rounds the other like a vulture - his elbows point out behind him, his body bends. Teeth expose with a tight grin and he lowers himself down to stare at another one of his counterpart's things. An odd kind of creature that doesn't seem too bother by the predicament at hand.] Didn't think you wouldn't, but we're not exactly the same. You and me.
[Slowly, he rises up. Hands in his pockets, back straight. His sunglasses birth a look-see - at a pair of eyes that match the other, that twitch and expand in needle-point slits. Again, Greed removes his sunglasses with a delicate pinch of the nose piece. The pair slide into his hand, set aside on a shelf with clack.]
So I'm guessing you regenerate too. And the Ultimate Shield. But without a Philosopher's Stone - that's gotta be something. [Finally, he moves behind the other. Two 'tenders to a bar and his hand moves where his companion's doesn't; his space exchanges when the other moves. Too close for comfort, but picking up a rhythm just the same. Pace for pace, clack for clack.] What do you take? Figured I'd at least do you the favor.
[And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a bad seventy-two hours to spend.]
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[Then? Then, well what. Whatever else was lurking for him around the bend.] Ling Yao - Prince of a country aside Amestris. Emperor by now, if they took the opportunity. [Greed's waving his hand, waltzing through his counterpart's digs like he could own the place. Which he does, in another life. It's some sort of strange irony.]
[From what he's gathered, his partner is a mirror. A reflection of himself, but not quiet there. There's broken pieces in the proverbial mirror and one stark difference - one sliver that's sharper than the rest: human. Least, he had been. That's how the story seems to go and the Sin can't imagine it. Being something else, living a mortal existence. Only to be changed to someone else's whims by an Alchemist with enough juice to be successful.]
[It's almost pitiable. Had he been someone else.]
[But he's not, they're not. Monsters, stories out of a textbook. The writings different, the stories aren't quite right. But it all boils down to the same in the end. Greed rounds the other like a vulture - his elbows point out behind him, his body bends. Teeth expose with a tight grin and he lowers himself down to stare at another one of his counterpart's things. An odd kind of creature that doesn't seem too bother by the predicament at hand.] Didn't think you wouldn't, but we're not exactly the same. You and me.
[Slowly, he rises up. Hands in his pockets, back straight. His sunglasses birth a look-see - at a pair of eyes that match the other, that twitch and expand in needle-point slits. Again, Greed removes his sunglasses with a delicate pinch of the nose piece. The pair slide into his hand, set aside on a shelf with clack.]
So I'm guessing you regenerate too. And the Ultimate Shield. But without a Philosopher's Stone - that's gotta be something. [Finally, he moves behind the other. Two 'tenders to a bar and his hand moves where his companion's doesn't; his space exchanges when the other moves. Too close for comfort, but picking up a rhythm just the same. Pace for pace, clack for clack.] What do you take? Figured I'd at least do you the favor.
[And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a bad seventy-two hours to spend.]