"What are you doing?"
"Excuse me?"
"What. Are. You. Doing? It's not that hard a question to answer, is it?"
Mustang looked up from his work to view the blond on his couch. They were looking at him in a puzzled way, their head upside down on the armrest, hair trailing nearly to the ground over the side.
"I'm busy. Please leave me be."
"Busy doing what?"
"Working."
There was an eye roll from the couch. Mustang bared his teeth and returned his head to the paperwork in front of him.
"Come on, tell me. The sooner you do, the sooner I go away."
"You're already not supposed to be here. I don't have to tell you anything."
"Well then what's the harm in telling me? It's not like I can tell anyone else, because if I do, I'll blow the fact that I was actually in here, won't I?"
Mustang frowned sadly, eyes msting ever so slightly.
"No, Edward. You won't tell anyone because you're dead."
The vision grinned cheekily.
"There's always a chance I'm dreaming."
It faded.