A/N: Since I'm writing about a chapter a day of this, I figured it was safe to update pretty quickly.
Reviews are love.
You seem so strange to me, I must seem strange to you
Chapter 2:
Of Puppets and Playthings
"He was seen with a middle aged man with black hair, right?" Kimblee questioned the soldier who had given him the report even as he read over it. They needed every detail to be accurate, but his partner... He glanced up to find her staring that the map, hands clasped behind her back, feet shoulder-width apart - a very militaristic stance, he thought, for someone without a uniform - but she didn't seem to be paying any attention to the conversation he was currently having.
"Yes, that's what it said in the report, sir," the young man responded. Kimblee chose to ignore the female clicking her tongue at the other blonde in the room.
"And this was yesterday," he continued, more to himself than anyone else, as he approached the map to stand just behind his companion, perhaps a little closer than was strictly necessary but neither seemed to notice. It seemed she didn't have a concept of personal space, either.
Her finger traced the map along the railway heading west, but otherwise remained silent. It didn't matter, he spoke for her.
"West, huh?" They both seemed to mull it over, both mentally trying to work out anything they could from the information they had.
"Several of our own people were injured while trying to apprehend him," the soldier informed the two of them.
If Kimblee hadn't been so close, he probably wouldn't have caught the muttered words from the female in front of him - who still hadn't bothered to give him her name.
"Like that's actually relevant. Amateurs," her brow rose while Kimblee's gaze slid to the soldier standing off to the side. He hadn't seemed to hear the only woman in the room. The alchemist didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed.
"Scar must be getting desperate," she spoke a bit louder, allowing both of the others in the room to hear her for the first time, "but that could help us. He's leaving us a good trail."
He smirked at her with a small sense of victory, but it fell when he noticed her head canted to the side and her eyes noticeably narrowed, even behind the sunglasses she hadn't bothered to take off.
"Maybe too good a trail," she mumbled to herself. "What don't you want us knowing, Ishvallan?"
While he had thought the same thing just before she said it, he decided not to question her on it just yet. Perhaps later, but not now. They'd see what this lead turned up before he sought any insight she wouldn't freely give.
"Alright, time to get to work," he placed his hat on his head and left the others to follow behind him. Something - although he wasn't quite sure what - swelled up in his chest when his partner fell into step behind him and to the right.
She was letting him call the shots, for now, following behind in whatever he had planned. She'd not get in his way, then. But she'd be strong back up if it came down to it. She wasn't here to hunt Marcoh and Scar, that much was becoming increasingly obvious.
The car ride from Central Command to the train station had been decent. Quiet, the way he liked it, and without too much disruption. He took that time to watch her from the corner of his eye, the way she quickly switched which leg was crossed over which as if suddenly remembering that the other way wasn't actually comfortable, the way her foot constantly bounced as if she simply could not keep still. The twitch in her cheeks whenever the sun hit her just right that told him her eyes were sensitive, hence the constant presence of the sunglasses, the short but shaggy hair that told him she was growing it out after having cut it very short, and the tank top under a light jacket that told him of a tolerance to cooler temperatures.
The slight rise under her loose-fitting jacket that told him she had a shoulder holster concealed under it - gun included - and the weight in the lower pants of her pants that told him she had plenty of spare ammunition on hand. The way she held her arms told him she likely had a blade up each sleeve to accompany the slightly larger one in her boot - though she didn't seem to care how the boot knife pressed against her leg. With those, plus the two guns and the fourth knife - a larger hunting knife, by what he see of it - at her hip, she was armed to the teeth, and by the feel of her, more than willing to use each and every weapon on her.
"Just what kind of trouble are you expecting?" He breathed, more to himself than her, but it seemed she heard him anyway when she grinned over at him. He really needed to break this habit of talking to himself.
"With the way I'm armed?" She chuckled, pressing further back into her seat. "Absolutely none." She locked her hands together behind her head, leaning her head back onto them. A strange smile - a mix of playfulness and something much darker - graced her lips in an expression that seemed oddly familiar.
"Have we met?" He finally asked the question that had been on the tip of his tongue since she slammed that car door in his face. She just seemed so damn familiar.
"Nope," she shook her head then let it lull to the side to face him fully. "But I know you, and if you think hard enough, you know me."
His confusion must have registered on his face because she let out a short laugh and pat him on the head as if he was some pet that hadn't quite yet learned what "sit" meant.
"You'll figure it all out eventually," she assured, moving her hand back behind her head, "and I'm going to be there when the realization hits those pretty blue eyes of yours." With that, she turned her head away again to stare out the window silently.
The silence between them wasn't as uncomfortable as he would have thought. There was no paranoia that one of them would lash out at the other, no bubbling annoyance that often came with his sharing too close a space with any one person for any length of time. He didn't feel the need to keep watching over her as if he'd miss something if he didn't study every detail of her.
But one thing did bother him, and he'd have to get at least this one answer before they went much farther in their journey together.
"You know my name, I think it's fair that I learn yours," he commented almost absently, looking out his own window. He didn't need to look at her to know her shoulders shook with a silent chuckle.
"Why don't we see if you can guess it?" She suggested without looking back at him. Was she planning on making a riddle or game out of every question he asked her?
He had been right; working with a partner was never a good thing.
Kimblee didn't even dignify it with a response; instead, he just tapped his heel impatiently until the car reached the station. He wasn't going to put up with this for very long. He enjoyed toying with people, not being toyed with himself. Maybe he simply wasn't asking the right questions, or maybe he was just being far too entertaining. What would happen if he tried boring the answers out of her?
The car came to a stop and they simultaneously, though silently, got out. Kimblee let the foot soldiers behind him take his bag, but the female slung her worn and beaten pack over her own shoulder. When one of their escorts tried to take it from her out of courtesy, she had his arm in a lock that had even Kimblee wincing in sympathy.
"Hands to yourself," she warned, her voice taking on a dangerous edge that had a shiver of pure excitement skittering down Kimblee's spine. As she let him go, it was obvious she'd dislocated the footman's shoulder and possibly torn a muscle in the arm. "Next time, I won't let you off easy."
As she tossed her shaggy bangs from her face, Kimblee swore he caught a glimpse of that perfect, piercing green behind her sunglasses. But he couldn't be so lucky as to find her this easily, so he simply brushed it off as a trick of the mind. Still, past her trying to use him as a plaything, Kimblee thought he might just end up liking this woman. Or, at least, not hating her so much.
He just needed one detail before he could continue on his search for answers from her.
"Will you just tell me your name already?" He all but growled at her as they began to climb the steps to the train station. "Honestly, it's just a name. How much of your little game could it possibly ruin?"
But her attention, as per usual, was elsewhere, or maybe it was just everywhere at once. Either way, she wasn't focusing on him or his question, causing his brow to twitch in irritation as she stopped dead in her tracks to narrow those covered eyes at a passing, elderly woman.
"Well, aren't you suspicious?" She muttered as alert hues followed the woman down the steps.
"That's not our job," he insisted, trying to pull her attention back to their current situation.
The short-haired woman simply shrugged and resumed making her way up the steps, skipping every other one until she was at the landing and waiting for them. His rather exasperated sigh and minute shake of his head only brought a smirk to her lips.
"Dani," she called back to him, her grin widening as if she had the upper hand in some kind of inside joke he didn't yet understand. "That's what you can call me." She then turned her back on him and headed into the train station.
x . x . x . x . x
"My motive?" She lifted a single brow, shaggy blond hair falling into her questioning eyes as she canted her head ever so slightly to the side in askance.
They'd managed to get onto a train rather easily, and, with a soft touch and a bitten lip at the right official, Dani had commandeered a seat in the dining car for the entire trip, if they wished it. She seemed to prefer having the table between them for whatever reason. He supposed she just wanted something to lean on, by the way she was sitting.
"I'm just curious as to why you decided to work with the homunculi. You don't seem to be someone who would be swayed by a promise of immortality," he explained a bit further, which only gained him a rather indignant look from the female across from him on the train.
"My motive isn't nearly so naive," she snorted and leaned back in her seat. "It's also not as complicated as some moral obligation or wanting the universe to pick the superior being," covered eyes flicked upward to meet his with a small smirk and a shrug. "Nah, it's far more simple than all that and, as Envy said, far more fickle."
"And it is...?" He drawled, for once actually interested in the answer.
Her smirk grew, her fingernail tapping the surface of the table between them. She waited for the train's whistle to blow before give her answer.
"I'm bored, simple as," she returned to staring out the window, piercing hues catching the slightest bit of a questioning frown on her companion's reflection.
"Life isn't as complex as people would like to believe," she leaned a slim but muscled shoulder against the wall of the train car. "Aside from a few small ripples in certain areas, it's rather calm and for the most part peaceful. It's routine, and it's stagnant. There's nothing more boring than stagnation. Even when I'm on a job, it's always the same. Ran back home, tried to kill the partner that snitched, got jealous and tried to kill the ex-lover's new flame, blah, blah, blah. But this," she flicked her hand up to indicate the entirety of the situation that had them here, "this stirs it all up. This makes things interesting."
"Really?" His brow rose in turn. "That's it?"
"That's it. My loyalty is and will always be fluid. This is a good enough reason until a better one presents itself," she shrugged, resting one ankle atop the opposite knee then, as per her usual habit he'd noticed, immediately switched which leg was on top.
"That's why they made me take you along," he nodded understandingly until she snorted.
"Tch, like a small time hunt like this would keep me entertained for long," she tossed her hair then leaned forward on her elbow on the table, tapping her fingernail just in front of him. "It's why they gave you to me."
He opened his mouth to speak, but she smirked and shook her head.
"Don't take my fun out of it by making me tell you," she pouted, landing back against her seat with a thud. "It's so much better watching you try to figure it out. Like when I take a shot and everyone else runs around screaming 'where'd it come from'," she chuckled lowly at that and shook her head. "Nothing quite like that look of panic and confusion right before the lights go out, is there, Crimson Alchemist?"
It wasn't the question that had him stiffening, but the knowing tone she used, as if she knew the thrill he got out of it all. As if she understood it.
He wouldn't come right out and ask her anything and knew she'd just give him a laugh and something like "you're no fun" even if he did. So, he'd have to do one of his most hated things: interact with her.
People weren't his strong suit. He liked twisting them into writhing masses of pain and torment. He hated interacting with them more than he had to, hated playing nice, but she was going to make him, if he ever wanted to get those answers.
A puppet on a string, he thought bitterly as he watched her stare out the window. Whom did the homunculi really send out on a hunt, here?
"Don't worry, I'm not allowed to kill you," she waved her hand at him. "Not yet, anyway. You're too useful at the moment. But one day, you won't be, and all I have to do is bide my time." Her eyes dragged up over his form, taking in every last detail in a single, sweeping look.
He'd have liked to have some witty comeback to that, some retort to put her back in her place, but, even hidden as they were, her eyes kept him quiet. She had every intention of killing him one day, he could see that much in the way she stared him down. And with a fierce determination like that, he may just have to watch his back.
"A good hunter is quick," she gave a grin that would have had a lesser man running at the pure, murderous intent behind it and settled deeper into her seat, "a better hunter is patient."