Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
Beware of shifting tenses.
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-'
"It's probably heatstroke," Kimberly says casually, gesturing to Roy's uniform.
No one wears the jackets off-duty. Most of the soldiers and alchemists strip down to t-shirts, but Roy obstinately continues to wear long sleeves. He told Maes that he sunburns too easily. He shifts everyone else's attention to different subjects.
He doesn't attempt that with Kimberly--the other man knows misdirection too well.
"We're here for a reason," Roy replies, giving Kimberly and his undershirt a cold look. "This is a war, not some--" he starts to say 'game' but he knows how Kimberly will react, with that slow smirk and that damned attitude "--place to relax."
Kimberly shrugs, folds his arms behind his head. "Whatever helps you kill them."
(Roy is always the one who walks away from their conversations.)
