Ed was glad to be out of the police car. The officer attending had been glowering at him suspiciously in the mirror the whole way through, and the trip had been made in sullen silence.
He stood on the pavement outside the City Hall and looked at the line with distaste. It had taken him hours to get in the first time, and he didn't feel like going back inside just because of his automail. Ed didn't see why the doctor couldn't have just made a note of it in his medical file and sent it off with some lackey for processing.
But at least the psychological evaluation had gone well.
Not too far up along the line he saw a tall, tidy-looking man about his age handing supplies to a girl with bright blue hair, and Ed watched him intently for a few minutes before looking down at his feet.
He refolded his coat, rubbed his shoulder, and wondered if they would let him skip the line this time through.
Ed jerked, surprised, and looked up. He hadn't expected anyone to speak to him, and gave the offered items a long look before taking them.
He was hungry, and it looked better than the shit that the other volunteers were handing out.
Stalling, he bit into the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully while giving the other man a measuring look. It was good and the guy looked nice enough. He was hot, tired, and could have used a shower, though, and in no mood to put up with anyone who was even the slightest condescending. But the line was long and there had been no one else who had voluntarily been pleasant.
"Thanks. I could use some," he said in English, though he couldn't quite keep his accent from slipping through, thick and guttural, in places. Belatedly, thinking it would be polite, said, “Name’s Edward Elric.”
He juggled the sandwich and bottle into the crook of his left arm and stuck his other hand out in greeting.
Ed fell into step a half a pace behind Light, shuffling his feet, and tried not to drop everything he was holding. Light seemed to be the first person genuinely interested in where he had come from instead of what freakish power he might unleash on the pristine, haughty citizens.
He was too weary to disagree, as much as he disliked relying on charity.
“A place called Amestris,” he said. “Similar to your historical Europe, I’d guess, but more militaristic.”
Mussolini had been in power then, a black shadow over Italy, and he had relocated with Al back to their father's flat in London. The English Channel had been a feeble barrier between them and the atmosphere of impending war.
"The last I remember, it was 1925," he said, looking down at his clothes. He had noticed that he had been dressed differently, but he hadn't realized the extent, and he suddenly felt self-conscious.
He picked at his sleeve and looked at it closely; it was threadbare and there were the faint outlines of old stains on the cuffs, probably from dipping them into oil or fuel.
"Should I change them?" he asked. "The clothes, I mean."
Ed looked down at his frazzled shirt. Authentic? Of course they were.
He swallowed the last of the sandwich; there was no longer an unpleasant hollowness around his midsection, and the tea tasted refreshing, if a bit strange.
"World wars?" He had been right then. This place was similar to the Earth he had traveled to through the Gate. Germany, he guessed, and perhaps Italy. All the young German men had wanted retribution for their lost honor and ruined economy.
"Before I left," he said, "Amestris had just passed from a dictatorship to a parliamentary rule."
“Yeah, it was,” he said, “as far as I could tell. But, I’ve never been big into politics. Most of the politicians I had met were backstabbing bastards, or idiots without the backbone to stand up for what was right.”
Ed looked down at the Light’s outstretched hand. He could still eat, easily, but he cast a glance behind him, measuring the length of the line, and frowned. “I haven‘t had salmon in years, and not like this at all, but I don’t want to eat all your food. There are other people here that are probably still hungry who could use it.”
“Thanks,” he said, putting the cap back on the tea and sticking the strange bottle into the pocket of his coat.
Nice? Ed didn’t really think he was that nice, but made no comment. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and rubbed at the back of his neck; he was hot and his foot ached.
“I wouldn’t really know where to start --” he broke off, a slight frown creasing his brow.
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the subsidy card and held it up. “Or how to use this? I was told this could be used as money -- yen, right? -- but I don’t know the conversions from what I’ve used or even what would be fair here.”
It was a lot of information to digest. The purchasing process sounded close enough to a monetary transaction, but without the money, and he knew he could pick it up if he was shown.
Ed did some quick maths in his head, gaze drifting somewhere in the region of Light’s shoulder, eyes briefly unfocused.
He could stand living in a shithole, but he would have preferred not to. Speaking mostly to himself he said, “So I’ll need a job that pays 6,000 yen a day, assumptive of a seven day work week and a thirty day month, comfortable minimum.”
Without waiting for a response, he stuck the card back into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with his new address on it. “You mind telling me if there’s any place I can buy food or clothing near here?”
(The comment has been removed)
He stood on the pavement outside the City Hall and looked at the line with distaste. It had taken him hours to get in the first time, and he didn't feel like going back inside just because of his automail. Ed didn't see why the doctor couldn't have just made a note of it in his medical file and sent it off with some lackey for processing.
But at least the psychological evaluation had gone well.
Not too far up along the line he saw a tall, tidy-looking man about his age handing supplies to a girl with bright blue hair, and Ed watched him intently for a few minutes before looking down at his feet.
He refolded his coat, rubbed his shoulder, and wondered if they would let him skip the line this time through.
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(The comment has been removed)
He was hungry, and it looked better than the shit that the other volunteers were handing out.
Stalling, he bit into the sandwich and chewed thoughtfully while giving the other man a measuring look. It was good and the guy looked nice enough. He was hot, tired, and could have used a shower, though, and in no mood to put up with anyone who was even the slightest condescending. But the line was long and there had been no one else who had voluntarily been pleasant.
"Thanks. I could use some," he said in English, though he couldn't quite keep his accent from slipping through, thick and guttural, in places. Belatedly, thinking it would be polite, said, “Name’s Edward Elric.”
He juggled the sandwich and bottle into the crook of his left arm and stuck his other hand out in greeting.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
He was too weary to disagree, as much as he disliked relying on charity.
“A place called Amestris,” he said. “Similar to your historical Europe, I’d guess, but more militaristic.”
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"The last I remember, it was 1925," he said, looking down at his clothes. He had noticed that he had been dressed differently, but he hadn't realized the extent, and he suddenly felt self-conscious.
He picked at his sleeve and looked at it closely; it was threadbare and there were the faint outlines of old stains on the cuffs, probably from dipping them into oil or fuel.
"Should I change them?" he asked. "The clothes, I mean."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
He swallowed the last of the sandwich; there was no longer an unpleasant hollowness around his midsection, and the tea tasted refreshing, if a bit strange.
"World wars?" He had been right then. This place was similar to the Earth he had traveled to through the Gate. Germany, he guessed, and perhaps Italy. All the young German men had wanted retribution for their lost honor and ruined economy.
"Before I left," he said, "Amestris had just passed from a dictatorship to a parliamentary rule."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Ed looked down at the Light’s outstretched hand. He could still eat, easily, but he cast a glance behind him, measuring the length of the line, and frowned. “I haven‘t had salmon in years, and not like this at all, but I don’t want to eat all your food. There are other people here that are probably still hungry who could use it.”
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Nice? Ed didn’t really think he was that nice, but made no comment. He tugged at the collar of his shirt and rubbed at the back of his neck; he was hot and his foot ached.
“I wouldn’t really know where to start --” he broke off, a slight frown creasing his brow.
He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the subsidy card and held it up. “Or how to use this? I was told this could be used as money -- yen, right? -- but I don’t know the conversions from what I’ve used or even what would be fair here.”
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Ed did some quick maths in his head, gaze drifting somewhere in the region of Light’s shoulder, eyes briefly unfocused.
He could stand living in a shithole, but he would have preferred not to. Speaking mostly to himself he said, “So I’ll need a job that pays 6,000 yen a day, assumptive of a seven day work week and a thirty day month, comfortable minimum.”
Without waiting for a response, he stuck the card back into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with his new address on it. “You mind telling me if there’s any place I can buy food or clothing near here?”
Reply
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