Breda had spent the last twenty minutes attempting to talk Havoc into playing chess with him. Havoc wasn't going for it; Breda was now trying to bring out his masochistic tendencies, since "you might actually win this time" and "it'll be a learning experience" hadn't worked.
"C'mon, Havoc, you'll enjoy it. You know you will. You'll love every minute of losing. Don't you want to see me happy? You're a good person, right? You like to make other people happy, right? Well, make me happy. It'll make you feel good."
Havoc took a drag on his cigarette.
"You know, I feel like being selfish today."
The door burst open. Havoc and Breda and Falman looked over expectantly, but who walked in was much taller than they were expecting.
"Damn." Muttered Breda. "I can't wait for Ed to get back. I haven't heard Mustang get decently pissed off in way too long."
Fuery shook his head as he shut the door behind him. He had a strange look on his face.
"Ed's in the lobby."
"Good." Grunted Breda, leaning back in his chair and folding his hand behind his head. Fuery shook his head slightly. He took a few steps into the room, and then shook his head again. The movement was almost convulsive. Breda unfolded his arms and leaned forward as the other two frowned.
"What's up, Fuery?" asked Falman.
"Ed doesn't look good." Fuery said quietly. Havoc shrugged.
"You know how the kid gets into trouble. He always gets patched up again." Fuery shook his head again with the same convulsive movement.
"No, he's not hurt. He's…I think he's sick. Really sick."
"How sick?"
But before Fuery could answer, Ed himself stepped in, and they had their answer.
"Hey guys. Is Mustang in?"
He was met by three stares. Fuery had looked away.
His fair skin was a gray, pasty white. He eyes looked almost blackened with thick rings under them. He coughed into his hand, and when he looked back up, they saw that his left eye was a bright scarlet, and when he saw them staring, he raised his hand to it.
"I know it looks bad. I've got uveitis, but I'm getting it treated now that I'm back in Central. There shouldn't be any lingering effects."
Havoc relaxed, but only slightly. "It's good that you're getting it treated. I guess it's one of those things that look worse than they are."
He stood as Ed answered. "Yeah. It'll get better."
"You don't look like you've been getting much sleep, Ed." Said Falman. Ed shrugged.
"I've had a bad cough lately. It's been keeping me up. And the long trip wasn't too easy either. I just need some rest and food—after I check in. Where's Mustang?"
Havoc sat back down, feeling more relieved. "He's already left for the day. You should spend the evening resting. You look bad."
Ed laughed a little, but it turned into a cough he smothered with his hand.
"I'll get better. I can't believe he's not in, though, the jerk. After I spent all those months on the border, the least he could do for me was be in his office when I got back. It's not like I hadn't told him the date."
"Probably slacking off, going on a date instead of working." Grumbled Havoc. "You have any luck on your mission?"
Ed shrugged, looking a little uneasy. "Besides picking up every intestinal disease known to man? Nah, not really. I was trying to get some research done, but mostly I got commandeered into battle."
Falman shrugged. "You are a good fighter. I still remember that day you had a match against Mustang."
Ed glowered. "I'll beat him next time. Anyway, I have to go."
He turned and started out the door.
"Don't get any sicker!" Breda yelled after him. "You're the one who makes it interesting around here!"
Ed raised a hand in response without looking back. "I'll get better." He said quietly, not bothering to wonder if they'd heard.