GreedxEd: Al would like me to inform you that he does not have cow eyes, and now wishes you pain XD.

Sonar: Yes, Scar just can't leave poor Al in peace. Not that Al will eventually mind.

MandaxPanda: Yes, they are happily together again. Poor East Central will be quite fearful of that.

accident prone: No, it's not weird at all! And yeah... Al needed some other sort of career, just to prove that he can do it. I'm all for alchemy, and pet stores, but sometimes Al just needs to do something totally unique for him.

Zemyx: Yay! Killing spree! XD yeah... poor Scar, the mental debate he must have been going through. See Al... kill... see Al... kill... damn, I want to see Al too much!

Sulky Shark: I did! And thank you, I do love making my Al a real pistol, and Scar is just perfect as is with his growly attitude. All I can say is that time will definitely see them spending more quality time together in the bar.

GWings: I think Scar might take exception to killing Ed on the grounds it probably wouldn't be a good thing to have against him when trying to win over Al.

elemental heiress: It makes me happy that you read them so often. And the reactions will be ever-changing among Al's staff... Scar's not always in the most solicitous of moods.

Eri: You are welcome, this is one of my favorite pairings too. I agree though that it is so hard to find anything of them. Which is a real shame, but I'm doing my best to try and fill the void. And don't worry, Scar definitely has his moments of fierce possessiveness in the future about his Al.

Insanity Breaking Point: You'll soon see.


Some of you had questions about those last few lines in the previous chapter. Some of you seemed to catch on. All I can say is that it will be explained further here... even though I am definitely not ruling out letting Scar kill a few people... but we'll see.

And as a general note that I'm making everywhere, I've finally gotten my FF Master List updated (sans Oblivious). I couldn't believe how behind I was.

I hope you all enjoy!


Chapter Twelve

Alphonse was understandably nervous as he led Scar around to the front of the bar, climbing up the short flight of steps that were surrounded on either side by tiered gardens and fed by miniature ponds connected to each other by a system of tiny rivers and waterfalls that fell over to the next tier. All to be fed back into the pump and cycled through again.

These Scar took pause with halfway up the stairs as he took in the gardens all in their neat little pine boxes. "Pretentious."

Alphonse whipped back around to level an affronted look at him. "I happen to like my gardens. And so do my customers, it makes them feel happy."

Scar directed his gaze back towards Alphonse, "you'd think that the drink they were here for would take care of that."

Alphonse was getting the feeling that today would be one of those long ones, and he took a deep breath to remind himself that Scar was accustomed to outdoor bars surrounded by nothing but sand. "Happiness should come from more than the consumption of alcohol." He stated firmly, and finished mounting the stairs to cross the short pinewood deck fronting the glass windows and doors. "I'm sure you'll find more pretentious things in here."

Scar watched as Alphonse vanished through one of the glass doors, and to his chagrin, realized that some thread of guilt was nudging his stomach. Not that he'd ever retract his words, as he didn't see the practical use at all for the fancy setup, but this was Alphonse's, and somehow that changed things.

But he still wouldn't retract his opinion, and as he made his way up to the doors to go find Alphonse again, he reminded himself that Alphonse had told him it was an upscale bar. Definitely not anything remotely near his zone of familiarity.

"Are my gardens still alive?" Alphonse asked dryly as he heard the door open, his eyes not lifting from the list of his chef's seasonal proposals to the menu. As autumn was just about to breathe down their necks, they were getting ready to usher it in with complementary foods and drinks.

Although their boss's apparent nonchalance about who would be in the bar well before opening time didn't stop the chef, Bren; the head bartender, James; and Abigail, from looking over.

Scar took in the three people gathered in front of Alphonse, returning the curious looks with a hard red-eyed gaze. These must be part of the staff that Alphonse had warned him not to scare away. He couldn't make promises, as being locked in Alphonse's office was hardly much of a threat.

"They must not be." Alphonse lamented in as just a dry a tone. "He'd have made some snide remark if they were." And he looked up from the menu to look at his chef, "Bren," he quickly got the man's attention away from Scar, noting the chef looked slightly unsure. "Fire up the rotisserie and get samples made up. We'll try them for lunch before we open and go from there. But there's nothing on the menu I'm opposed to yet."

"Boss." Bren inclined his head as he took back the menu proposal that was offered back to him. And he cast one last uncertain glance at the stranger who looked more suited to one of the more shady bars, before making to go head for the kitchens.

"Wait," Alphonse requested, holding up a hand before waving his other towards Scar. "I'd like you all to meet an old acquaintance of mine, Scar." And he gave Scar a piercing look, before motioning in turn towards the employees presently gathered. "This is Abigail, Bren, and James. The others I've no doubt you'll meet later at one point."

Abigail's "hi!" was by far the cheeriest of the greetings, although not to say that Bren and James's "hey's" were any less congenial.

Scar didn't nod, nor make any move to make his stance a more friendly one as he took them in through somewhat narrowed, calculating eyes. But far be it for anyone to accuse him of not containing any manners. After all, he hadn't always been a man who'd murder in cold blood. "Pleasure."

Alphonse couldn't help but think with the way Scar growled the word, it was anything but. The Ishballan was probably the only person alive who could make introductions sound like a warning. "Right. Well, Bren, the samples. Jason, Abigail, we're opening in three hours. Back to work, as you can see I'm just fine." And as they all hurried off, temporarily forgetting about Scar in pursuit of what they needed to accomplish, Alphonse swept a hand through his bangs. "So… you want that drink now?"

Scar looked over towards him, giving a short nod. "Might as well. I've had a damnable time getting here."

Alphonse chuckled, giving the man a brief, amused smile, before turning to make his way to the gleaming bar counter. "I can imagine. Life becomes a bit harder when you decide not to kill everyone who opposes you."

Scar followed after the young man, coming to lean up against the counter as Alphonse ducked around behind it to begin perusing the lower shelves of the stocked alcohols. "That was never the truth anyway. You're living proof of it."

"Yes." Alphonse agreed as he selected a bottle from the employee stock that was kept separate from those they served the patrons. "But tell me, truthfully," he asked as he set the bottle to the counter before fixing Scar with a searching look, "were you aiming to only disable me that day? You didn't know how to kill me, for all you knew, blowing me to hell would have worked."

Scar didn't answer for a time, and nor did Alphonse move from where he stood on the other side of the counter holding fast to the bottle. "I never had any driving need to kill you."

"More a need to protect me." Alphonse muttered as he grabbed a glass.

Scar watched as Alphonse poured what was probably some very expensive brandy into the glass, capping the bottle before pushing the glass across the counter. "Not at first." He ground out, as if merely admitting that he'd at one point somehow turned to trying to protect Alphonse was a painful experience for him.

Alphonse smiled faintly, setting the bottle away before grabbing himself a beer out of one of the frosty coolers. "You do realize that by coming here you've severely limited your options?"

"I had a feeling." Scar tossed back the brandy, before eyeing Alphonse's beer.

"Oh no!" Alphonse caught the look, clutching at his beer with both hands now in dramatic exaggeration of protecting it. "This is mine."

Scar let out a derisive snort of a laugh. "I hope your hospitality is less money-driven at your home."

Alphonse chuckled, silently taking this moment to feel relief in that Scar wasn't going to fight him about the fact that the man would need to come home with him. At least until the military matters were all sorted out. "Help yourself there. But my business is a different story."

Scar finally slid onto one of the impeccably polished and plush-padded bar stools, figuring he'd be here a while yet. "I assume you have some leverage to assure you that the military isn't going to come barging in here? I'm not sure I could promise you I'd not kill them all if they did. They were asking for it enough as it was." And he clenched his right fist hard, the tendons showing clearly through the darkly tanned skin.

Alphonse frowned as he lowered the bottle from his lips.

"If it weren't for – "

"Wait." He cut the man off abruptly, his ire already rising again. "What were they saying to you." It was a demand, not a request.

Scar knew that tone far too well by now, and at the risk of having Alphonse bolt out the door to go physically assault half a regiment, he told him anyway. "Generally, let's just put it that what you heard regarding me and my kind wasn't the worst of it. I murdered a good portion of the military once, and attempted to murder the rest right before I saved your life, and after, as that array did work." He chuckled darkly, almost proudly. "Guess they hold a grudge."

"Oh I'll hold a grudge." Alphonse growled, stalking over to stalk over to the house phone. Whipping the receiver up off the hook, he began dialing the phone call that he knew he'd have been needing to make soon anyway.

Scar eyed the caramel-blond with more amusement than suspicion. Alphonse was increasingly full of surprises, and he had no idea what the youngest Elric was up to now, but he couldn't help but feel a sense of humbled gratitude underneath that amusement. It had been rare… very rare indeed, for anyone to stand up for the Ishballan kind in the past. And a folly of a thought to believe anyone would stand up for him so adamantly.

This was going to take some getting accustomed to. All of it.

Meanwhile, Alphonse was waiting impatiently for his phone call to go through. And when at last the other line picked up, he barreled straight to the point before the individual on the other end even had a chance to prep for a 'hello?'.

"You need to call up General Hastion and inform him that the officers he had detaining Scar are lucky I don't march back there myself and beat them with the bat we use to break up the ice! It's steel reinforced and I may be small, but that only means they'll be losing important bits first!"

Scar's eyes widened only marginally. The brat had more than once stood up against him similarly, spitting and hissing like an enraged kitten that didn't realize its own size. But it was fascinating to see it turned on another party.

Alphonse was twisting the phone cord in agitation around one finger, peering out at Scar through the fringe of his hair every so often. "No. I'm fine, really. But those soldiers may not be if they don't learn to let go of several decades of stupid prejudice. They're idiots if they think taunting a man who used to make it a hobby to reconstruct cranial matter is a smart thing!"

Scar gave a long-suffering sigh, "I did not reconstruct. I destroyed sins against Ishbala."

Alphonse gave him an odd look before turning his attention back to the phone call, listening as the person on the other end spoke. "Of course I'm fine. You said it yourself, remember?" He glanced at Scar again with a small smile, "I'll keep him with me though until you give the word otherwise officially that he's to be left alone, unless he's causing trouble or killing anyone." He said the last part with a stern look to the Ishballan.

Scar leveled a deadpan look back at him.

"Yeah. Tell brother I'm fine, and he doesn't need to panic." Alphonse continued, returning the look with unwavering austerity. "Scar won't hurt me. I trust him enough to know that."

Scar waited until Alphonse had hung the phone back up, and even a moment afterwards, before saying. "You're always so sure of that."

Alphonse managed a smile. "Maybe one day you'll believe it too." He replied as he came back over to the counter to stand there opposite Scar, and he rested an elbow up on the counter to lean his head against an upturned hand as he studied the Ishballan. "Don't you want to believe it?" He asked softly, "sure I once made a mistake with you… but aside from then, once you knew who I was, were there any other times you truly wanted to hurt me?"

Scar didn't edge away from the penetratingly searching amber gaze, "I recall telling you that I don't want to hurt you."

"And you won't." Alphonse answered the adamant, fierce whisper of the other man. "So try to believe it."

Whatever response Scar was formulating was interrupted by James and Abigail's return into the main lounge area. Carrying between them shining china dishes, cloth napkin wrapped cutlery, and freshly wiped down drink menus.

Alphonse jerked abruptly back to himself, straightening away from the bar counter and taking his beer with him as he made to move from behind it. He paused at the space between the bar counter and the wall, resting a hand on the smooth surface as he looked back towards Scar. "I'll be in the back. You're welcome to explore so long as you don't leave the bar, and no more alcohol for you. James is quite capable of making first class non-alcoholic drinks."

He made sure to say the latter part loud enough for James to hear, and got a quick turn of a head and a nod in his direction. Once he had that confirmation, he gave Scar a last parting look before quickly escaping back to the chilled cellar.

Scar lowered his head after Alphonse had gone, beginning to turn the empty scotch glass in his hands as he frowned down at the gleaming bar counter that showed his reflection perfectly aside from where the grain of the wood disrupted the image. He knew that realistically he couldn't have expected Alphonse to just drop everything for him, not with the feisty brat running his own business. Especially one like this. But it didn't stop him from wondering when Alphonse planned to call it a night and go home.

"Can I get you anything, sir?"

Scar wouldn't have realized that it was he who was being addressed so politely if not for the fact he'd heard and seen the man approach from his side. But he didn't look up, only continued to spin the glass slowly between his hands. "Do you even know who I am?" He asked instead in a growl of a voice.

James did not hesitate, but he did study the tensed figure a moment. The physique of a man who had his guard up. It had not slipped his notice that when he and Abigail had first come in, this man had seemed far more relaxed in just Alphonse's presence. "You are the boss's friend, sir." He replied prudently.

"I'm not." Scar finally looked up, fixing him with a hard, red-eyed stare. "He is not any such thing to me. Nor will he ever be."

James felt his bravado waver faintly under that look, and those final words said in a cutting tone. But he stood his ground as he tried again. "Am I to take this to mean you do not want any food or drink?"

Scar was about to tell the prying bartender several choice words that would have assured him peace and quiet for the entire rest of the day and probably a good portion of the coming night, when his stomach chose that moment to contract painfully – reminding him that he hadn't eaten since he'd chosen to be run out of town back in Ishbal. Which made what he was about to say feel as if he were running a cheese grater over his tongue. "Sandwiches… and water."

James actually recoiled somewhat, looking offended. "Sandwiches and water? You're not imprisoned!"

"Well you go nurse your wounded pretentious pride and get me whatever you won't mind me not paying for!" Scar snapped, thinking it better he do this, than knock him 'round the head. As Alphonse had noted, when he hit someone, it was usually a long-lasting coma. He doubted Alphonse would be pleased if he christened his first day in East Central by assaulting the bartender.

Perhaps he'd be pardoned if he did it the second day?

There was no answer from James. He'd fairly fled for the kitchen in as well-controlled a hasty movement as possible.

Abigail had shortly thereafter ended back up in the chilled cellar, leaving Scar alone up in the main room. She wasn't too concerned about that, clearly Alphonse trusted him, but she still ended up in the chilled cellar where said boss was finishing up inventory.

"Are you here to question my sanity? I assure you that my brother has already done something similar regarding Scar." Alphonse asked, not turning from where he was checking bottles, but knowing all the same that she was there.

"There's only one person named Scar that I've heard of." Abigail answered slowly, a bit unsure if she was overstepping something that shouldn't even be stepped near. "He was an Ishballan too."

"If you're wondering if he's the same one," Alphonse said, turning now to look at her, "the answer is yes."

Abigail didn't look away from the amber eyes that she knew were judging her every reaction, but those eyes didn't stop her from quickly becoming confused, angry, and something in between. "Sir, he's a murderer!"

Alphonse didn't attempt to deny it. "Yes. And he has nearly killed me before, came quite close to it. So I'd thank you to trust me that I know what I'm doing. If his being here makes you uncomfortable, you may leave and I'll have your final paycheck mailed."

Abigail's eyes widened, before splutteringly she hurried to dissolve any notions that she wanted to leave. "Sir, I, that's not what I meant!" And then she paused before asking hesitantly, "so the stories are right, he has attacked you?"

"On more than one occasion." Alphonse thought wryly back to the bruises that had been on his neck. "You're safe enough, Abigail. He's still dangerous, but try to believe me when I say that he's trying to turn over a new leaf."

She nodded slowly, a bit uncertainly, but if Alphonse trusted him... "I'll just be careful." She declared with a wavering, but strengthening smile. "I'm sorry, sir. I shouldn't have doubted you, not considering how closely tied you are to the State."

Alphonse snorted before turning around abruptly to go back to looking over his stock of liquor. "It's okay, I understand your concerns. Many people will share them, believe me, I know." And he directed an almost sad smile to his clipboard.

"He's said that he's not your friend. Why would he say that when you're clearly helping him?" Abigail asked then, after a moment of wondering if this really was too far to try pushing that line.

And for Alphonse, it was. "That's something personal between he and I." Yet he knew it hadn't stopped him from speaking to Holly about it. But then, Holly was a friend. "You have work to do, Abigail."

That was all it took, and once again Alphonse was left alone in the chilled cellar with nothing but his stock of alcohols. And as he finished his inventory, finding everything was as it should be, he took a seat on one of the empty crates that had yet to be cleared away and took a long breath in.

And for a time he just sat there, losing himself to the solitude before he finally drug himself to go back upstairs and check on things.

He found that the lounge area of the bar was looking just as it should, and that it appeared James and Abigail had done their jobs well. Not that he'd had any doubt of it. The only thing out of the normalcy of his establishment was the looming individual seated at the bar counter.

And he couldn't help but smile as he watched Scar eat on sandwiches and drink down iced tea as if he'd been starved for days. Then, Alphonse realized, the man probably had. He doubted Scar had taken provisions with him, he hadn't even seen a suitcase. Knowing how much time had passed between the getting of the tattoo, and the Ishballan's arrival here in East Central, he doubted Scar had taken time for anything other than sleep and caring for the tattoo.

It was that that made him start forward, and as he climbed up onto the stool at Scar's right side, he folded his hands over the countertop. "You can have something more substantial you know. Bren can make a very nice chowder. It's just the alcohol I'm limiting you on."

Scar shook his head, picking up another triangular ham and cheese sandwich. "This is fine." And a bit hesitantly he added, "I haven't had cheese like this ever."

Alphonse tilted his head in confusion. "On a sandwich?"

Scar shot the caramel-blond a withering look. "With holes in it, you idiot. Of course I've had cheese on a sandwich before."

Alphonse shot him a look right back, and promptly swatted him ineffectually, but it made him feel better. "I didn't know what kind of sandwich it was! And that is swiss cheese. Nice and holey, Ishbala should be happy with your eating habits."

Scar gave the brat at his side a brief smirk, before turning back to investigate his sandwich on its journey up to his mouth. "Ishbala doesn't care so much what I eat, as much as what I do. And I have been far from that grace since before we met."

"I thought Armstrong said that one day that you were saved by some sort of loophole." Alphonse recalled with a slight frown.

"I'd disagree, on the grounds that I am an Ishballan, and your State Alchemist friend is not." And Scar bit into his next sandwich with contentment at the simple act of being able to eat again.

For several more sandwiches, they sat there together in silence. Scar eating and drinking from his glass of iced tea, and Alphonse just watching. It was familiar to them, if not still a bit irritating to Scar. But he'd rather the brat be sitting here at his side out of the way, than hovering around him on foot.

Eventually they were joined by the others, and this time Alphonse did not beat some sort of retreat elsewhere. He kept his seat beside Scar, and it didn't escape his notice that his employees went on his other side on pretense of avoiding the Ishballan. Even if they were trying not to be obvious about it. It was a bit frustrating, but Alphonse knew he had to pick his battles here.

At least they hadn't all bolted for the door yet.

Right now, though, it was time to test the samples for the new menu that Bren had spent the last few hours on. Alphonse pointedly made sure that Scar was served first as their guest, even though the man had already downed countless sandwiches and iced tea.

It didn't seem to matter, for as Alphonse and the others heartily began to taste-test, so did Scar. And Alphonse was raptly watching the Ishballan's every expression, finding himself inexplicably happier every time Scar gave a clear indication of enjoyment.

Which to anyone else was invisible, but Alphonse had seen Scar eat often enough to know that the man was eating each bite slower than normal.

"You stare at me through the dessert as well, brat, and I'll clobber you over the head with your own dinnerware." Scar finally growled at him.

Alphonse only shot him a grin, laughing softly before turning away with a shrug. "I can't help it that I like seeing people enjoy themselves here. Even you. Have you had enough to eat yet?"

"Ask me when you've fed me dinner." Scar informed him, and was pleased that the answer pacified his personal tormentor.

Eventually the dishes from the enjoyed samples were all cleared away, with critique from Alphonse to a closely-listening Bren. And not too long later, the other staff began to arrive through the door in preparation for the opening. All of them taking a quick liberty to stare at Scar before they were sent scuttling off by a red-eyed glare.

Alphonse merely rolled his eyes at the antics and made his way over to the man. "I only stay until after six o'clock, every night aside from Friday, or unless I know it will be busy. That's only about three hours. Are you good still being out here until then? You're welcome to go wander wherever you like, and you haven't budged from this stool."

"I've spent longer on a bar stool than this." Scar reminded him, sure that Alphonse had gotten that impression long ago between the visions and the caramel-blond's visit.

"Drinking alcohol." Alphonse pointed out, but left it at that. "My office is down that hallway," he motioned with one hand, "last door on the right. If you decide you need a change of scenery."

Scar didn't budge, and Alphonse hadn't really expected him to, and shortly thereafter the bar was being opened for business. The influx of patrons was nearly immediate, and soon the tables and their plush chairs, and the bar stools were beginning to fill up.

James was hard at work behind the bar, laughing and putting orders together as he charmed the guests into buying more. The waiters and waitresses were bustling about bringing wine, scotch, beer, and every other sort of high-end alcohol kept by the establishment to the customers who were also enjoying the fruits of Bren's labor in the kitchen.

Alphonse was milling around speaking to just about everyone, as was the maître d'.

But Scar's attention was more for watching Alphonse wander about the lounge, greeting everyone so genuinely with laughter and familiarity. And he continued to take sips of something non-alcoholic that James had thrust in front of him while dubbing it a 'mojito'.

Scar dubbed it a 'too much damn mint', and continued to sip on it nevertheless as he continued to watch Alphonse from what he told himself was a sheer excess of boredom.

It was around the time of one of the lulls of fresh customers that Alphonse finished speaking with the very animated maître d', that the amber-eyed Elric then made his way back to Scar's side. "You ready to go?" He asked cheerfully. "I'm starving for some dinner."

Scar didn't waste any time abandoning the half-emptied mojito glass, and got off the stool for something other than finding the restroom again. Without wasting any time he might as well have dragged Alphonse out of the bar, much to Alphonse's amusement. Yet as they finally turned down the sidewalk to make their way to Alphonse's home, the mood changed significantly from somewhat hurried to something more relaxed.

Alphonse shoved his hands in the pockets of his fancy suit jacket as he tilted his head up to look at the coloring evening sky. "I can't believe I was so busy I didn't even realize you were coming. If I'd been paying attention I'd have been the one to meet you at the train station, not a bunch of militia." He lamented through a deep exhale.

"Do you mean that pull you mentioned is back, or," Scar's brow furrowed as he drudged up and dusted off the things Alphonse had told him he'd once hoped he'd be able to forget, "is still active? I've been taking proper care of my arm."

"I know that." Alphonse replied, and not casually. "I've seen it a few times, that you have. But yes, I can feel that pull again when you're far enough away from me."

Scar watched Alphonse for several more steps as they walked along together, his face betraying none of his thoughts before he at last faced forward. "I'll find my own way in this city soon enough. I hope it goes away before then."

"Just no pimping or killing." Alphonse implored with a slight groan.

"I thought you realized I was here to kill most of the military personnel?" Scar shot back with a growing smirk.

Alphonse looked over at him with an uncertain frown. "That doesn't mean you should pimp out the rest. And we both know I wasn't being serious."

Scar snorted, "so I can't be?"

"Serious? No." Alphonse affirmed quite promptly.

Scar's low rumble of brief laughter sufficed as enough of an answer, and they fell into an easy silence as Alphonse led the rest of the way to his home. And once they neared his fenced-off lawn, he nodded towards the quaint two-story structure that had more lawn than home. But it was how he liked it. It wasn't as if he'd ever needed much in the way of a dwelling.

It was sometime after Alphonse had finished setting the dinner plates out onto the table, and was sitting down to join Scar, that he finally broached one of the things that had been on his mind.

"Did you manage to bring anything at all with you before you left?" Before adding quickly, "not that I won't give you some money to go get some things while you're figuring out what you're going to do."

In answer, Scar reached inside his worn jacket, pulling out a very worn looking folded bunch of papers. "Didn't think anyone else should be snooping through this, realize just how badly injured I was."

Alphonse only had to take a second look to realize what the papers must be, and he nodded. "Probably a good idea. Especially if anyone were to have put it together that you only got better after I showed up, and far too quickly to seem normal."

"You'd have been in even more demand as a prostitute." Scar smirked over his mashed potatoes.

Alphonse scowled at the reminder, which kept him from blushing at the connotation Scar's words held. "Was that poor man still in a coma by the time you left that seedy little village you hunkered down in?"

Scar shrugged uncaringly, "last I heard. I didn't care too much about it, considering I got my desired result of him leaving you alone."

"My hero." Alphonse rolled his eyes, ignoring the dark look Scar sent his way with a small, amused smile.

For the remainder of dinner, they spoke mainly of Scar's impressions about Alphonse's employees. Something Alphonse took more interest than amusement in, for tease as he might about Scar not scaring them off, he found he trusted the man's opinions of people. As such, he decided that James seemed to have the most bravery, for despite his apparent scurrying away in fear after being snapped at, the bartender had come back later that night and served Scar different drinks.

It wasn't until Alphonse had cleared away the dishes from dinner and had finished fixing up the guest bedroom for Scar that he turned to the man, holding out his hands expectantly.

Scar lifted an eyebrow at the action, and about to ask what Alphonse wanted, when the familiarity of the action registered in his mind. "Save your life once and you become an overbearing nurse." He said, shucking out of his thin coat anyway.

Alphonse gave him a reproachful look, "save my life once and you become part of me." He quipped back as he watched Scar begin to unroll the bandage. "I'd say that grants me overbearing nurse qualifications."

The bandages fell away at last, exposing the healing skin around an all too familiar tattoo that wrapped around most of Scar's right arm.

And Scar stood still as Alphonse hesitated once at first, before reaching out to take that arm in his hands. It was difficult to forget what Scar could do with that arm, yet Alphonse tried to ignore the memories attached to that tattoo, and how Scar had blown him to pieces with it at one point, as he ran a hand over it to check for abnormal heat that would point to infection.

Scar watched Alphonse closely, not blind to the fact that Alphonse's hand against his arm was not so steady as it had been back in Ishbal. And as Alphonse finally seemed to become satisfied that there wasn't any infection going on, he caught the unsteady hand in his left, meeting the somewhat startled gaze that was darted up to him. "What happened to your confidence that I'd not hurt you?"

Whatever Alphonse had been expecting, it wasn't that, and he wrenched his hand away with increasingly angry eyes. "Some things take time to get accustomed to again, forgive me if I don't hug your arm with joy. I'm sure I'll get around to it when I can finally trust you to touch my head again." He snapped, and stalked around Scar to leave, calling back a terse "goodnight" before he nearly slammed the door shut behind him.

Alphonse let out a staggering sigh as he made his way back down the stairs and into his living room. He had an older brother to pacify, as he knew that even Roy wouldn't have been entirely successful at it. His only hope was, as he sat down and picked up the phone to begin dialing, was that his irritation wouldn't carry over in his voice and make his brother rush to East Central anyway.