Over the following weeks, Envy spent much time visiting Yamin in his private and lonesome little world, sinking their claws into his heart and leaving strings there, ready to be tugged into motion. They made him do parlour tricks, reshaping dirt and wood into pleasant shapes, patching the inside of his tent and sealing cracked glass. They offered him a double-front, letting him believe he was the expert and that they knew very little, while also suggesting new techniques and insights to improve his skills and expand his mind to greater heights. Kimblee was a marvellous help inside their head- ultimately, he knew more of alchemy than they did, and their little project was entertaining to him.

In nearly an exact month from the botched Promised Day the Ishvalans arrived at their home base, a large gathering of tents and small plaster houses in a forest of the East, a few miles north of a low-level mining town. Envy found themself begrudgingly admiring the skills the Ishvalans had in hiding- they didn't think even Father had known about this place, and even if he had he probably underestimated the sheer quantity of people living there. Kimblee was right- it seemed that no amount of war or exile could stop these people from breeding like spring rabbits. The place was tightly packed with human bodies, the streets little more than alleyways with laundry lines and baskets strewn across them, the majority of the populace young and wide-eyed and dirty. The travelers though, for the most part seemed happy to be rejoined with their 'loved ones' and rest in a place of their making again- only Yamin had no visitors, no overjoyed grandchildren and cousins and friends, and his intensified loneliness made him even more deliciously easy to dig into. They realized that he had been brought with the expedition to Central for his alchemical expertise regarding the transmutation points set up by Scar (and, probably, cursed Hohenheim); they had known that he was a hypocrite, of course, using alchemy to kill alchemists for trespassing against God, but it seemed that the trait ran through Ishvalan culture in general, and they both loved and hated that knowledge simultaneously.

As Amala had said, it was easy for her and her women to make more of the burn treatment gel from within the slum, and so Envy's physical condition improved steadily. It wasn't long before their skin was no longer raw, the open wounds soothed and sealed by thick and lumpy scar tissue. Apparently, their recovery was miraculous, though they were still horrendously disfigured, and would be for the rest of their life (according to Amala). They suspected it was true- without any alchemical intervention their body would only heal so much, and a human put through the same stress would never look as they did before the burns ever again. At times this was discouraging; they found themself missing most their hair, which they had always privately thought was one of their cutest traits, replaced now as it was by a thick and discoloured bald skull where no hair could ever grow again. But none of that really mattered- such things weren't really permanent, not to them (or so they told themself).

One night they were visiting Yamin, his spirits high and his expression pure, for he had managed to light a fire in a wastebasket in his home using alchemy. It was a weak little thing and had been born of too many attempts, but he was still ridiculously proud of it, and they made a point of being overjoyed for him, clapping their hands and praising him to heaven and beyond. In truth the strong light of alchemical fire was bothering them, making their skin feel hot, and his childish amusement was a little sickening. They wanted to change the subject- in his current state, Yamin trusted them completely, they had become his dearest companion in only a matter of weeks. Tonight, he was happy, his mind soaked in the honey of his victory over the waste basket, and they could feel the time was ripe for the next stage of their little 'relationship'.

"You know, I've been meaning to ask you," they said sweetly once the man had settled down, his lack of social skill creating a pause in the flow of the conversation. "That woman in your photograph...I don't think I've seen her around."

They paused there, eyes on his face to gauge his reaction, pleased when they saw his smile droop, a touch of something sad slipping into the angle of his shoulders and the tilt of his head. Lovely, that was exactly what they had been hoping for- clearly, he had loved that woman, and she was dead. He wouldn't react that way if it were anything else- only dead lovers created devotion, if she had left him he would resent her.

"That's, uh, Karyme. She...she was my wife." Even better! He looked a little uncomfortable now, the rush of his success sobered by his memories. Yes, they liked making him squirm. Dead wives were so useful.

"Was?" they prompted, pretending not to understand, forcing him to say it aloud. He swallowed thickly, eyes darting in their sockets, a rodent-like habit they had come to know signaled nervousness or discomfort in him.

"She died. She got sick. It happens here." He offered them a weak little smile, no doubt trying to disguise the strength of his feelings. It was clear that the woman had been of great importance in his life- perhaps it was her fatal illness that had inspired him to seek out alchemy. Perhaps it was because of her likely needless death that he resented the sparse Ishvalan way of life.

No matter.

They gave him a look of confusion, twisting their deformed face as cutely as possible, as though something seemed amiss to them.

"Did you not try to bring her back?" The words were sweet on their tongue. Oh, how they relished the look of shock on his face.

What a wicked thing you are, said Kimblee.

"You know it's possible, right? With alchemy?" they prompted and he sputtered weakly, like he didn't understand what was happening to him.

"I thought that was forbidden," he said when he had managed to rein his mouth back under control, and Envy just shrugged, tilting their head to one side. "Well, yes. The Amestrian government doesn't want regular people doing it; they want to control who has power over life and death. But State Alchemists do it all the time."

This is terrible. Do you really think he'll believe this?

Of course he will.

"H-how do you know?" The poor man looked like his understanding of reality was being destroyed. His fists clutched sweatily at his robes. What a pathetic thing.

"I lived in one of their labs, remember?" They made a brief face as though the memory was painful for them. At this point, of course, Yamin knew all of Emily's tragic backstory, and it checked out perfectly with the lies they told him now. "The State Alchemists did it there. It's pretty simple, actually."

The flabbergasted look on his face was utterly hilarious. They could see the few feeble cogs in his mind turning, they knew exactly what he was feeling- the tight-bellied sensation that was the fear of missing out.

"So it can be done?" He was breathing heavily. "Even...after all this time?"

They nodded and then, sympathetically, put their hand on his shoulder. "I guess you didn't know, huh? But yes...you could bring her back."

His breath smelled sour in their face and his eyes were watering. He looked like he was going to cry. The fire in the basket had gone out.

"How?"

Envy licked their lips, and began to tell him.

"Well, I remember the circle. I can show you. Otherwise all you need to do is collect a few simple ingredients…"

Later in the night, when they had left Yamin to stew on the possibilities of human transmutation, they curled in their little mat on Amala's floor, letting Kimblee touch them everywhere from within. He gave them little sparks of pleasure in their blood, ghost hands running across their flesh, telling them how good and clever they were, and his happiness was very much alive in their mind.

I'm flattered by this, but shouldn't you be taking care of yourself, first?

"Mm, let me be selfless for once," they whispered into their blankets, voice soft enough so only he could hear. "Don't you want to kiss me for real?"

Of course.

"It's settled, then."