Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa.
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"Where'd you get 'Crimson' from, anyway?" Roy asks one afternoon.
Kimberly gives him a lopsided grin. "Do you know how to make explosions red?"
"Blood?" Roy replies bitterly. He's growing sharper as one year drags into two, tenser, lashing out more. The same goes for many alchemists and soldiers, but Kimberly prefers to study Roy's slow breaking.
"Calcium," he replies.
At Roy's look, he explains: "I blew up half the supplies for my practical," adding a rounded gesture. "Pulling in the calcium was difficult, but it got me the license."
Roy tilts his head slightly. "That makes sense. . . . Where did you get it from? There couldn't have been enough in the water."
"That was some of it," Kimberly acknowledges. "There was an old shed hidden near the back. Plaster has gypsum, and so do aluminum alloys." He stretches. "And there's calcium in bones."
After a moment, he's rewarded with Roy's flat, disgusted look, which only brings his grin back. "Wanna see?"
Roy exhales, but doesn't say anything, which Kimberly takes for consent.
They are later reprimanded by a superior officer for blowing up a table. (The salt stolen from the kitchen would be blamed on the cooks.)