Roy leaned back in his seat, listening to Fullmetal report, a deadpan, flat expression on his face. "And then?"

"And then the whole thing collapsed. Bam. Right into the lake."

"Hmmm."

"Don't ask me about damage reports," Ed said, and the shrug was clear in his voice. "How was I to know they hadn't actually made the strats out of steel?"

Roy sighed, expression flattening further. "You could have asked."

"What? Don't be stupid, shithead. Nobody asks."

"Hmm." Roy scribbled a note on a piece of paper. "Well, anything else?"

Ed seemed to consider. "Nah, not really. The Mayor was pissed off, but when he saw the prosperity it was going to bring in, he changed his tune."

"That's good."

"Okay, I'll be heading off th--"

Roy leaned forward, placing one elbow against the desk as if to physically forstall the boy from hanging up. "Ah, Fullmetal, there is one more thing."

"Huh?"

"What are you wearing?"

There was a long pause. "Uh. Pants and my tank top. Why?"

"Good. Tell me about how you take them off."

"...What?"

"Tell me about how you take them off. How slowly. What parts of your body you touch as you do so. Tell me how you touch yourself."

"Uh, no." Ed's voice was somewhere between horror and outraged amusement. "You freak pervert shithead." He hung up.

Roy sighed, staring wistfully at the receiver. "Ah well," he sighed and hung up. "It was worth a try."