What time was it? Edward didn't even know; he'd just stumbled out of bed, feeling even worse than he had when he'd gone to sleep. Stupid cold, or... whatever this was. He hadn't even really gotten dressed, just slipped on some shoes to go with the sleeveless shirt and pair of shorts he'd gone to sleep in. Later, he would regret wandering around with his arm and leg exposed for all to see -- even if there were weirder-looking people around here, he was a little self-conscious about them.
He probably shouldn't have even been up right now, but he was hungry, and his dorm was the closest to the boys' dorms' entrance. He'd be fine.
Except... oh, great. Someone else was already sticking their big nose in the refrigerator when Ed came into the kitchen.
Allen looked over his shoulder as the other boy entered. "Oh, hi." He offered a polite smile. "Did you need to use the fridge? I'll be out of your way in just a second."
A moment later he closed the refrigerator and turned around, a full package of hot dogs in his hand. He wasn't really fazed by Ed's metal limbs--Allen had an unusual arm of his own, after all, concealed as usual under his sleeve and glove--but he did find it a bit odd that someone would walk around in shorts and a sleeveless top in the dead of winter, especially when that someone looked like he might be sick. "I don't mean to pry, but aren't you a little cold like that?"
Ed coughed a little, covering his mouth with his right fist. "Nah, I'm good. We're inside, right?" Well, okay, it was a little cold. There was heating, but it was calibrated for people wearing normal clothes. His fever did a pretty good job of keeping him warm regardless, though.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Allen frowned at the cough, concern kicking in almost instinctively. "You don't look so good. If you're sick, it'll just get worse if you run around in the cold like that."
[Beside a dojo or a baseball field, Yamamoto always felt at home in a kitchen. Probably because he grew up in and above a giant one most people called a sushi shop. It had endeared him with a sense of calm and home, the kitchen, and he came here often to make his own food not because he disliked what was offered by the staff but just because he felt better to make his own meals, made this place feel more like the home it needed to be to help him with his powers.
He was used to others being in the kitchen, because certainly others liked to cook. What was not normal was something with a golden ball with wings and a tail on their head poking through the fridge at the same time. And Yamamoto was a terribly curious fellow, who sometimes lacked tact.]
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He probably shouldn't have even been up right now, but he was hungry, and his dorm was the closest to the boys' dorms' entrance. He'd be fine.
Except... oh, great. Someone else was already sticking their big nose in the refrigerator when Ed came into the kitchen.
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A moment later he closed the refrigerator and turned around, a full package of hot dogs in his hand. He wasn't really fazed by Ed's metal limbs--Allen had an unusual arm of his own, after all, concealed as usual under his sleeve and glove--but he did find it a bit odd that someone would walk around in shorts and a sleeveless top in the dead of winter, especially when that someone looked like he might be sick. "I don't mean to pry, but aren't you a little cold like that?"
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He was used to others being in the kitchen, because certainly others liked to cook. What was not normal was something with a golden ball with wings and a tail on their head poking through the fridge at the same time. And Yamamoto was a terribly curious fellow, who sometimes lacked tact.]
It looks like a snitch with a tail! Cool!
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