World Domination in Thirty Days and Sixty Three Minutes
"But you break at the beginning."
Winry's hair curled into her snarl, but didn't hide the steps she retreated, "Don't tell me what I am."
He lounged against the doorframe with a casualness that bordered on sadism. Tilty purple eyes tracked, navigated the long, pale skin of her legs. He gave a soft snort, arms crossed, "Are you scared? I'll bet you are. All you insects are so terrified of your own fragility."
"Then aren't you lonely?" she shot back, "A wise man once said that death is what binds us together. But I guess I won't have to see you there, will I? You'll be here; alone." Her fingers searched for the sweaty metal of her wrench.
"It's not homeless if it's where you want to live." he said, cold and monstrous, "At least I don't count my solitude by the empty chairs and unsent letters. At least I'm not so pathetically dependent that I'd let them take my heart as a map to home."
The corners of Winry's eyes tightened. He'd meant his words to sting. Her fingers closed. "You? A heart? Don't make me laugh." She shifted her weight subtly, some rational part of her brain ordering, clipped, to stall. She painted on a sneer, "For all your loathing of us, when we're dead, you'll have shot down your own kingdom. There won't be anyone to follow you. You can scream and scream but only the horizon will answer. And that's why," she shifted, low heels gripping the rough floor as she scowled, "That's why we'll win."