HI GUYS, I am so so sorry this update took so long! I've been bouncing all over the timeline again over here, and for this chapter I had the dumbest and most wildly specific idea that I really wanted to do justice. We're back to the Party storyline, but we still don't actually even make it to the party yet. All's well on my end, except-as astute readers can probably tell from this chapter-I'm really missing being able to travel. Stupid pandemic.

Anyway. This is pretty silly, but I hope it's even a fraction as funny to you guys as it is in my head. Also I swear I am going somewhere with all this Pinako stuff! (And with the EdWin stuff!) Patience!

Song for this chapter is "Goin' Out West" by Tom Waits. Which works because Resembool is in the East and Central is in the centre...therefore...it's West.

I'm goin' out west where the wind blows tall
'Cause Tony Franciosa used to date my ma
They got some money out there, they're givin' it away
I'm gonna do what I want and I'm gonna get paid
Do what I want and I'm gonna get paid

Little brown sausages lying in the sand
I ain't no extra, baby, I'm a leading man
Well, my parole officer should be proud of me
With my Olds '88 and the devil on a leash
My Olds '88 and the devil on a leash

I know karate, Voodoo too
I'm gonna make myself available to you

It was bizarre for Ed and Al to see Granny Pinako striding matter-of-factly through the train station in Central. She was one of those figures in their lives that seemed to only exist in one specific location. Somehow seeing the one consistent person who had always welcomed them home to Resembool walking around in the capital was like seeing your math teacher on summer vacation: unsettling, out of context, and deeply off-script.

Pinako herself seemed to be enjoying the trip. Every town they'd passed through on the train reminded her of a different old friend or weird anecdote; it had been years since she'd had the chance to leave the East Area, and she sat by the window taking extensive notice of everything that had changed. She had even dressed for the trip, wearing a black-and-plum houndstooth jacket and matching skirt in place of one of her usual day dresses. It was jarring to see her without a heavy work apron on, and even more jarring to see her usual work gloves changed out for spotless cream-coloured dress ones. She was even wearing a little string of pearls around her neck, which she usually only brought out for weddings and funerals.

Ed, Al and Winry were dressed casually, and, thanks to much consultation with Mustang's department, had packed separate, carefully-vetted outfits for the ceremony and the party to change into later.

"Granny, are you sure you don't want to just stay at the military hotel?" Edward asked for the zillionth time. "Since this is a mandatory work thing for me I can just expense the room—you wouldn't have to pay at all."

"Why do you keep asking me the same question like I'm gonna change my mind?" she replied, shaking her head.

"Because I feel like you're not totally grasping the concept of free accommodations," he said, grasping at empty air with both hands. "Free! Zero cenz! No money down!"

"It's true," Al chimed in. "Ed's been home so much he's got plenty of room left in his travel budget."

"Listen," Pinako said, stepping close to the curb and hailing a cab with an aggressive wave, "it's not about the money. You kids will understand once we get where we're going, trust me."

Winry and the Elric brothers exchanged bewildered glances. Not only did they have no idea where they were going or why, but the three of them had only ever even seen Pinako in a car a handful of times; seeing her hail a Central City taxi like she'd done it every day of her life was jarring, to say the least.

They all piled into the car with their bags, and Pinako gave the driver a street address that Edward didn't recognize; he shrugged in response to Al and Winry's questioning looks. The driver took them winding through downtown, and Winry recognized the neighbourhood as the same one she and Edward had been in a month prior. They were near the fancy restaurant where Ed had taken her to dinner.

The car pulled up next to the well-lit and aggressively opulent carriage entrance to a huge, polished limestone building that they could only assume was a hotel. They stepped out of the taxi and into the glow of the huge red-and-gold awning overhead. Edward[E1] stared; there were fancy doormen, fancy shiny luggage carts—even fancy potted plants with little electric lights winding around them. Just for show, in the middle of the day.

"Whoa," all three teenagers uttered at roughly the same time.

"Here you are, ma'am," the driver said. "The Royal Emerson Hotel."

A uniformed bellhop—not just a generic guy who worked at the front desk, but an honest-to-God dedicated bellhop—hurried over to load up their luggage, and Pinako further surprised the kids by not refusing his help. Instead she thanked him graciously, as though she had strangers execute basic tasks for her every day, and strode ahead into the hotel lobby like she owned the place.

"What is happening?!" Edward hissed at Winry, who shrugged back at him, looking even more perturbed.

Ed, Al and Winry followed after her, mystified. The three of them gawked openly at the sight of the lobby, where every available surface was gleaming white marble and any visible object with edges was trimmed with gold. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high, vaulted ceiling, and the little seating area by the imposing marble front desk was decorated with elaborate floral arrangements on elegant little tables. There were far more lights than strictly necessary, and the effect was that the entire space seemed to glow.

The three of them stood awkwardly in the centre of the lobby, taking in the unfamiliar environment, while Pinako walked right up to the front desk.

A put-together-looking middle-aged woman greeted her warmly. "Ah, Ms. Rockbell—welcome back. We've been expecting you. The P and S Emerson Suite has been prepared for your arrival."

"Excellent—thank you very much," she replied demurely.

"If you and your guests would follow me," the bellhop said, "your suite is right this way."

The exchanging of bewildered glances continued all the way through the lobby, past the gleaming indoor fountain and the rows of decorative ferns, into a large wood-panelled elevator with fifteen gilded, backlit mother-of-pearl floor buttons.

"The fourteenth floor is the penthouse suite," the bellhop explained, "and the fifteenth is the pool, although it's presently closed for seasonal maintenance."

The P and S Emerson Suite—labelled with a little silver subtitle plaque below the room number—was one of just four rooms on the thirteenth floor. The bellhop handed Pinako a long silver skeleton key, and she reached out smoothly to unlock the imposing cream-coloured door.

"Um. Whoa," Ed said flatly, his jaw hanging open.

The suite was enormous, with improbably-high ceilings and towering windows to match them. The walls were silver-trimmed cream-coloured wood panelling interspersed with ornate, rose-pink paper, and the walls were dotted with huge oil paintings in ostentatious gold and silver frames. There were heavy silk brocade curtains adorning the high, arching windows, and matching cloths were draped across the coffee table, the end tables and the dining table. There were co-ordinating cushions and vases of flowers decorating every available surface, and every piece of furniture from the sofa to the armchairs to the dining chairs to the chaise lounge was richly upholstered along the textile colour continuum of ashes-of-roses straight through to winter cranberry.

In layman's terms, it was red and white and expensive all over.

The three teens stared in shock as the bellhop carried their bags in, and they were too distracted by the room itself to notice Pinako, with an air of incredible nonchalance, dismissing him with a generous tip.

"I didn't even know they made hotel rooms like this!" Al said, glancing around at the huge room. "How come we never got to stay in a place like this until now, Brother?" he joked.

"Because we didn't have—" Ed turned to look at the little printed rate card on the back of the door with the floorplan and the fire escape directions. "—three hundred and fifty thousand cenz?!"

"Granny, how are we affording this?" Winry hissed. "The shop's doing well, but it can't be doing this well. How are you paying for—"

"Simple," Pinako interjected. "We're not paying for it. This suite is covered 'cause I've still got a couple connections in this damn city."

"Wh—" Ed sputtered. "…Connections to what, an organized crime syndicate?!"

"No, no," she replied, shaking her head. "Nothing like that. Or—well—"

Alphonse looked at her with such a stricken, shocked expression that she stopped her joke in its tracks.

"I'm just kidding, Al, don't go giving me that look," she said, chuckling. "No, it's nothing sinister."

"Then…what is it?" Winry asked, looking more confused than ever.

"It's an old friend of your grandfather's, that's all," Pinako replied. "Somebody he and I helped out a long time ago."

"Really?"

"Uh-huh. In fact, now that I think about it," she said, pausing to remember, "it was actually the very first piece of automail the two of us made together."

Winry's eyes lit up. "What was it?!"

"Damn it, now I really wish we'd come up with a better name," Pinako muttered. "You never know in advance what's gonna become a defining moment. Guess I can't help that. Hindsight."

"Come on, Granny," Winry pleaded. "You never tell me about this stuff."

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes!"

Pinako sighed and shook her head, grinning ruefully. "It was, ah, a simple shock-absorbing leg model called the Snuffles 2000."

Ed snorted. "The what?!"

"In my defense," Pinako said, "it was a leg for a dog, and we had no naming rights over the dog."

"The dog's name was Snuffles 2000?"

"No, just Snuffles—and may he rest in peace," Pinako said with an air of great solemnity. "Snuffles Emerson IV, 1862-1887."

"He was twenty-five years old? Like…in human years?!" Winry asked, incredulous.

"You better believe it. I thought the little guy was gonna live forever."

"But that's…" Al held out his fingers, his face scrunched in concentration as he did the math in his head. "A hundred and seventy-five in dog years?!"

"That can't be right! There's no way!" Ed said. "You must've done it wrong."

"I know how to multiply, Brother! It's seven dog years for every chronological year."

"Yeah, but that doesn't adjust for the type of dog, so it's probably not accurate. There are way more factors than just chronological age! That's just basic biology!"

"Alright, fine," Al replied. "Granny, what kind of dog was, um, Snuffles?"

"A Pekingese," she answered.

"Well, I don't even know what that is, so I guess we'll never know," Ed said, throwing his hands in the air.

"Wait, so…Emerson…" Winry squinted. "Are we staying in this hotel for free because you and Grandpa made automail for the owner's dog fifty years ago?"

"More or less. It was a personal favour to Ms. Penelope Rose Emerson," her grandmother replied, grinning widely. "So don't go saying your family never did anything for ya, eh?"

Winry laughed and shook her head, amused. "Well, thanks, I guess," she said, stepping further into the room and looking around. The Elric brothers followed suit, still looking a little apprehensive.

"This is why I told you kids not to worry about the money," Pinako said, sitting down on the sofa in the middle of the room. "If we're having a high-society weekend in Central, we're gonna do it up right."

The suite really was something—the elegant sitting area led to two separate bedrooms, a private bathroom and a small balcony, with huge glass doors that revealed a stunning view of the city below.

"Are you absolutely sure it's okay?" Ed asked, glancing back at the door with the rate written on it.

"Now who's not grasping the concept of free accommodations?" she replied with a smirk.

"Alright, alright. Just checking." He shrugged, acquiescing, and strode across the room, dragging his overnight bag with him. "Anyway, we gotta get ready. Dibs on the bigger room," he called over his shoulder, opening the ornately-carved cream-coloured door to one of the bedrooms. "C'mon Al, I'll grab your suitcase."

"I can carry it! Look, I've got it, see?"

"Okay, okay."

There was relative quiet for a moment as Winry and the boys both carried their bags to their respective bedrooms. Winry only had time to heft her suitcase up onto one of the two high, silk-canopied beds and lay out her two dresses in front of her before she heard a strangled yell from the next room. She spun on her heel and rushed back into the main room.

"What happened?!"

She stared through the open door into the larger bedroom, where Edward and Alphonse were both staring at something on the wall. Al just looked mildly surprised, but Ed was clutching his chest and looking greatly perturbed.

"It's fine, Winry," Al said, holding up a hand. "We just—"

"We are switching rooms," Ed interjected.

"What? Why?" Winry narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What's wrong with this room?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," Al said hastily. "It's completely fine. Brother's just overreacting."

"Overreacting to what? What are you guys looking at?" Winry strode into the room to stand beside them both, looking up at the far wall.

"That," Ed said, pointing.

"Wha—" She froze mid-sentence. "Oh."

Gazing balefully down at the three of them from the wall was a four-foot-high oil portrait—considerably larger than life-size—of an elaborately-groomed, flat-faced little dog, perched regally atop a purple velvet ottoman on three stubby legs and one unmistakeable steel prosthetic.

"Oh, so…" Winry was a little caught off-guard by the sheer scale of the thing. "…I guess this must be the dog, huh?"

"Yeah, and he's your problem now," Ed replied, already heading for the door. "C'mon, Al."

Alphonse—largely unbothered, if a little bemused—looked to Winry for confirmation.

"What? Who says I'm switching rooms with you?" she countered, crossing her arms. "You were pretty eager to call dibs on the master suite a minute ago."

"Yeah, well," Ed said, "I don't wanna get changed with Snuffles 2000 staring at me from beyond the grave."

"Why should I have to?!"

"It's your ancestral legacy! He's the Ghost of Canine Amputees Past!"

"No way! If anything, it's your legacy."

"What? How?"

"You have so much in common with him! Think about it—you've both got a Rockbell left leg—"

"And kind of a scrunched-up face," Al added. Ed's scowl deepened on cue.

"That too," Winry agreed, a glint in her eye as she slipped into a mock-wistful tone. "Just a couple of little guys with bad leg luck and worse fashion sense."

"So true," Al said, nodding as he wiped away an imaginary tear.

Ed roared with annoyance and stomped to the bathroom instead, his uniform in hand, slamming the door behind him. The others laughed.

"I don't get what the big deal is, personally," Al said, laying his clothes out on the bed as he looked up at the portrait. "This lady obviously really loved her dog if she went to all that trouble to build it a new leg."

Winry nodded. "Yeah—although I think she could stand to scale down the painting just a little. He's practically the size of a horse."

It was true—and the portrait even included a bowl of fruit in the background, which betrayed the actual ratio.

"Have you ever heard Granny mention this before?" Al asked. "She's never talked about your grandpa around me and Brother."

"Nope, never—she only ever talks about him when she's talking about automail," Winry replied. "Oh, and once when one of her old drinking buddies visited a few years ago, but that wasn't her telling me so much as me eavesdropping."

"She never even mentioned it when you guys were working on Den's leg?"

Winry shook her head. "You know how Granny is," she said, turning to head back out of the room so they could both change. "Everything's on a need-to-know basis."


THAT'S RIGHT, WE'RE STILL NOT EVEN AT THE CEREMONY. Next chapter, though, I swear, we actually get there. I've been researching a ton and the whole thing should come together HOPEFULLY quickly.

The concept of Snuffles 2000 has been living rent-free in my head for the past three months and tormenting me, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. I also did a bit of research on Pekingese dogs for this, and I read this choice snippet from the Wikipedia article:

The Pekingese weigh from 7 to 14 lb (3.2 to 6.4 kg) and stand about 6–9 inches (15–23 cm) at the withers, however they can sometimes be smaller. These smaller Pekingese are commonly referred to as "Sleeve" Pekingese or just "Sleeves". The name is taken from ancient times, when emperors would carry the smallest of the breed in their sleeves.

IS THAT NOT ADORABLE? DO YOU NOT NOW DESPERATELY WANT TO SEE EMPEROR LING YAO WITH A TINY DOG IN HIS SLEEVE? BECAUSE I SURE DO. AND I'M THE AUTHOR HERE, SO STAY THE HECK TUNED.

Anyway, thanks so much for sticking with this story! (And if you're just joining us, thanks for tuning in!) I hope everyone's staying safe and well out there in Pandemic Hell, and if you have time please leave a review and let me know what you think!