I took a little time away from this to do a Pumpkin Scissors oneshot. If any two titles were screaming for a crossover, it would be that one and FMA. I just don't want to do it myself.

Chapter 6

"I've gotten to the point where I sometimes forget that Andakar isn't Danika's real father," Rada said with a smile. "They adore each other."

Sitting with her knees drawn up and her arms wrapped around them, Winry gazed at her raptly. "Golly!" she breathed.

Rada rethreaded her needle and smiled at the look on the Amestrian girl's face. "You were bound to wonder. Everyone does, but not everyone needs to know. I felt you should."

Scar had gone to work and Danika to school. The twins were both taking a nap, so it was just the two of them in the sitting room. Winry didn't think she had displayed any unseemly curiosity, as much as she burned with it. But without any prompting, she was treated to a rather extraordinary story, one that, in a roundabout way, had touched her life as well.

She rested her chin on her knees. "You know, for a little while, I thought Kimblee was a nice man," she said, a bit embarrassed.

"Oh, I did, too," Rada replied. "For about half a minute." She sighed quietly as she contemplated the seam she had just repaired. "I've come to think that for every wicked person that walks the earth, one of great goodness exists."

She looked up at a knock on the front door and set the shirt she was mending aside. She walked over to the door and opened it. "Hello, Stoyan!" She stepped back, opening the door wider. "What brings you by?"

The young man entered with a polite inclination of his head to the lady of the house. "I'm here on Zhaarad Andakar's behalf," he said. He looked around the front room and saw Winry sitting on the cushioned bench that ran around the wall. "He sends his apologies. He wanted to show you more of Ishval, but he had some business to attend to. Colonel Miles called him out to the fort," he explained to Rada.

"Oh, dear. Is Miles having a problem?" Rada asked with a slight tone of humor.

"I don't think so," Stoyan replied. "The message asked the khorovarto come at his convenience, so I suppose it wasn't anything urgent."

Rada turned to her guest. "Well, Winry, are you ready for an outing?"

Winry stood up. "Are you sure?" she asked. "I said I'd help you with dinner."

Rada waved her hand. "No, no, this is your holiday." She smiled. "You should see Ishval and have some fun!"

Winry looked from her to Stoyan. "You don't mind?"

"I'd be happy to show you around, Zhaarana Rockbell," Stoyan said. "I even hired a rickshaw. Atash is waiting outside."

"Oh! Well, if he's out there with his meter running, I guess I should go get my hat!" Winry gave a sly little smile. "But I'll only go on one condition." To Stoyan's questioning and slightly anxious look, she replied, "You have to just call me Winry, all right?"

Stoyan smiled, looking somewhat relieved. "All right."

She still felt slightly odd being pulled around by a person, but Atash seemed not only happy with his occupation, he took a certain pride in the way he darted and wove around people laden with building materials or market wares or bundles of shopping. He even barely slowed down when he trotted up slopes. Stoyan explained that motor vehicles were only allowed on designated routes so as not to damage the paving, cause accidents, stink up the air, or incommode the passersby. There was also a sort of attitude held by Ishvalans that cars were a kind of necessary evil. They isolated people from each other and stole something from the bonds of community. It was one of a number of things that explained why Amestrians were the way they were. Exactly what that way was supposed to be was never entirely clear, but cars had something to do with it.

Rickshaws were tolerated because they came from Xing, a people with whom the Ishvalans had historically been friendly, and because it was foot-powered. Some, generally the old baatas, were even appreciative of the fact that they kept young men employed who might otherwise be wastrels.

"Zhaarad Andakar doesn't like the 'shaws," Atash offered. "But I think it's mostly because it was Zhaarad Stanno's idea, and everybody knows there's no love lost between those two."

Before the story Rada told her this morning, this fact would have been a mystery to Winry, but now it made sense.

"Zhaarad Andakar doesn't dislike the rickshaws," Stoyan argued stiffly. "His concern is that you're not learning anything."

Atash only laughed. "Oh, I learn plenty, Zhaarad Stoyan!" He gave the honorific an ironic emphasis. Stoyan wasn't that much older than he was.

Both young men, each in their own way, were storehouses of information. Stoyan was well-versed in Ishval's history and culture. Atash boasted an in-depth knowledge of what was going on in the streets of each district.

"That woman we just passed," Atash said, looking over his shoulder at Winry. "The one with the blue head scarf. She's got two different men she's been leading on. They live in different districts." He laughed. "They've got no idea!"

Stoyan frowned. "What makes you think Zhaarana Rockbell wants to know that?"

"It's all right," Winry said. "It just shows that people aren't much different anywhere you go."

"That's the truth!" Atash said with a laugh. "It's useful to know these things. I have to know who's mad at who—"

"Whom," Stoyan said wearily.

Atash rolled his eyes. "So I know which shops or streets or neighborhoods to stay away from. If my fares are in a good mood, they tip well," he explained, more for Winry's sake than Stoyan's. "And just to make sure I keep my mouth shut, they tip even better! On the other hand, you've got your nosy baatas who live on gossip, so I know all the best spots to take them through." Atash chuckled. "I could practically live just on my tips."

"How very high-minded of you," Stoyan remarked dryly. "And what will you live on when you're an old man and your bones are stiff and weak and you have no children to support you?"

"Eh-h!" Atash groaned. "You sound like Zhaarad Andakar!"

Stoyan sat back with a smug smile. If Atash meant that as a jibe, it had apparently failed.

They reached the southeastern edge of the inhabited area, then continued on foot, leaving Atash to catch another fare. The land sloped down gently into a green and gold patchwork of fields that stretched for several miles. In a wide channel cutting through the field flowed a swift river.

"Those mountains in the distance," Stoyan said, raising his arm to point eastward. "That's the southeastern border not just of Amestris, but Ishval as well. During the occupation, The Amestrians confined Ishval to this point where we're standing. They tried to grow wheat and cotton out there, but there wasn't enough water and it was too costly to keep bringing it in, so they finally gave up and let the land grow wild. Since then, our ancestral lands have been restored to us. The Halik there," Stoyan said, pointing down the hill to the river, "has only been flowing since the spring of 1916, about a year and a half ago. It floods its banks every summer and leaves fertile silt, which is why we can grow all these crops now. Before that, the Halik lay hidden beneath the mountains to the east."

Winry grasped the brim of her straw hat as a breeze stirred around them. "Hidden?"

"For a thousand years," Stoyan replied with a nod. "It was buried by a massive earthquake back in the age of the warrior princes."

Winry turned to look at him from beneath her brim. "Ishval had princes?"

"Oh, yes. Some of the noble families still exist. Zhaarad Andakar's family, the house of Ruhad, is one of them," he added with a touch of pride in his voice.

Winry regarded her guide. "You think pretty highly of…um…Zhaarad Andakar, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" Stoyan replied solemnly. "He was my teacher before the War of Extermination and the Exile. He was—is—a wonderful teacher! He even inspired me to consider the priesthood." The young man smiled a little self-consciously. "I ended up discovering a different vocation, but I'm glad I'm able to assist Zhaarad Andakar as well." He looked off to the fertile valley below them, but not without a quick glance out of the corner of his eye at what he could see of the profile of the Amestrian girl from under her hat. "Speaking of vocations, I heard it mentioned last evening that you're an automail mechanic. May I ask how long have you studied?"

"Oh, years!" Winry replied. "My grandmother taught me at home, and then I did an apprenticeship in Rush Valley. That's my vocation." She grinned. "Ed keeps calling me a gearhead, but he'd be lost without me."

"Ed?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Winry looked up at him. "He's my…" She gave a little giggle. "He's my fiancé."

Stoyan grew still. "Oh."

"We pretty much grew up together," Winry went on. "When their mother died, Ed and his brother Al—Alphonse—he came out here on his way to Xing, you know."

"Yes, I met him briefly."

"Anyway, they came to live with me and Granny, so he started out as a kind of brother, but…well, things changed," Winry said with a smile that showed how she was still amazed at the changes that had taken place.

Stoyan was quiet for a few moments while Winry gazed at the landscape around them. "Where is he now?" he asked finally.

"Oh, he's off somewhere in the western part of the country," Winry said with a shrug. "Probably West City. He's doing research."

"What is he researching?"

"Alchemy." Winry replied. "He used to be a State Alchemist, but he—" She stopped suddenly and gave Stoyan a quick, anxious look. "I'm sorry! I hope that doesn't bother you! He was never in Ishval. He was too young."

"No, it doesn't bother me," Stoyan said. "Zhaarad Andakar is an alchemist, after all. Of sorts," he added. He gave a nod toward the river. "He used his alchemy to find the Halik and release it."

Winry nodded eagerly. "Miss Rada told me a little about that. I heard something about it on the radio, too, but I think I was too busy working to really pay attention. I really should have Andakar tell me the whole story."

Stoyan watched the flow of the current as it headed west. "You…um…said that Ed would be lost without you," he said, moving a little cautiously back to the previous subject. "Why is that?"

"Because he has an automail leg. He lost his leg…in an accident," Winry answered with just the briefest hesitation. She decided not to go too deeply into Ed's past, which was, to say the least, complicated. "Anyway, I'm his mechanic. Whenever he needs maintenance—because he's always doing something to it—he comes to me." She shook her head. "He's spent so much time travelling around Amestris, it seems like that's the only time I see him."

"Really?" Stoyan said, his interest sharpening. "Well, I suppose once you're married," he went on tentatively, "he won't be so inclined to travel."

Winry shrugged. It was something she was resigned to. "Who knows?"

"Have you set a date yet?" Stoyan asked, then added quickly, "I hope you don't mind me asking. In Ishval, once a couple is betrothed, they usually marry within a month. I know that customs differ in other parts of Amestris."

"Oh, I don't mind if you ask," Winry said easily. "We haven't actually decided yet." She gave a self-conscious little laugh. "It was kind of funny, really. He asked me just as he was stepping onto the train to leave Resembool, so we haven't really had a chance to discuss it yet. I'm not really sure when he's coming back, which is partly why I came out here." Winry lifted her shoulders. "I guess I was bored."

"I see." Stoyan raised his eyebrows briefly and gave a thoughtful nod. A smile grew on his lips. "Well, I hope you don't find Ishval boring."

"Oh, I don't think that's even possible!" Winry said with a wry little grin. She turned to Stoyan. "And you've been a very interesting and thoughtful guide, Stoyan! I've really enjoyed myself today!"

Stoyan's chest swelled ever so slightly, and he gave a subtle lift of his chin. "So have I, Winry," he replied warmly. "Very much."

When Winry had seen enough of the fields of crops, they started back toward the city by way of a different route, walking through orchards that Stoyan explained had barely survived the war. Now that water was plentiful, trees laden with citrus fruits and nuts were being carefully nurtured. Like the crops along the river, the harvest would be double what it was the previous year, giving Ishval a more certain foothold on prosperity.

While the river valley was run as a kind of collective, the groves had ancestral claims attached to them. As they passed by an orchard of almond trees, they found Bojil standing with his back to them at the foot of a rickety ladder, holding it steady with his one hand while a girl in her teens balanced on the top step, her upper half deep within the branches of the tree. Peering up at her, Winry could see that she was carefully tapping the branches with a piece of wood wrapped in cloth. With each tap, more almonds fell, landing on sheets of cloth that were spread on the ground.

"I'm coming down now, Djaari," this girl announced, climbing nimbly down the ladder and hopping onto the ground. She looked up and saw Stoyan and Winry approaching and her face lit up in a smile.

"Zhaarad Stoyan!" she breathed, quickly running her fingers over her hair to make sure there weren't twigs stuck in it.

Bojil turned around and brightened when he saw the newcomers. "ZhaaranaRockbell!" he exclaimed, stepping up to her and taking her hand with a squeeze. "Getting a good squint at our holy land, are you?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Bojil!" Winry replied. "It really is nice here! I didn't expect it to look so…green!"

"Yes, she certainly has cleaned up nicely, hasn't she?" Bojil said with a chuckle. He turned to the girl beside him. "This is my granddaughter, Setara," he said, putting his good arm around her shoulders. "She's also my apprentice. And this patch here is our family's legacy." He leaned over and patted the trunk of the almond tree and sighed. "When I saw that these brave fellows were still standing when we came back, I fell to my knees and thanked the Creator." He let his head droop, recalling that moment of humble gratitude. Then he looked up fondly at the tree. "They needed a bit of care, some pruning and clearing, but now they're bearing like never before because of the Blessed Halik." He leaned toward Winry with a sly look. "And the bees love them best!"

He turned to his granddaughter. "Setara…" He gave a slight roll to his eyes. "Setara!" he repeated a bit more sharply.

Setara, who was still taken with gazing at Stoyan, gave a little jump. "Yes, Djaari?"

With a kind but slightly wry smile, Bojil nodded toward the almonds on the ground. "Let's get back to work."

"Here!" Winry said quickly. "We'll help you!"

"Oh, Zhaarana," Bojil demurred, waving his hand. "You don't have to do that."

"But I want to!" Winry smiled. "Those almonds we bought yesterday are gone already, they were so good!"

Bojil laughed. "Well, then, if you like, go right ahead."

There was a flat wagon at the edge of the grove, and it held several full baskets of almonds as well as a stack of empty ones. Winry sent Stoyan, who readily complied, to bring back some of the empty baskets, and they all set to picking up the nuts.

"There's a family who lives near us in Resembool who grows almonds," Winry said as they worked. "They have a machine that shakes the tree so the nuts fall off. It's very quick."

Bojil gave a sniff of disgust, which was pretty much what Winry expected him to do. "That's barbaric!" he scoffed. "Catch me using some godless contraption like that! These trees are like my family. They'd never forgive me!"

Despite having just the one hand, Bojil was quick at his work. Winry watched him for a few moments, then said, "You know, Mr. Bojil, since you're not interested in automail, have you ever considered a standard prosthetic?"

Bojil straightened up and gave her a questioning look. "A what?"

"You know…" Winry frowned for a moment. She held up her hand and curled her forefinger. "Like a hook. I mean, it doesn't have to be a hook," she went on quickly. "If you just had a base, an extension of your arm, you could even have different attachments."

Bojil thought for a moment. He rubbed his chin with the back of his hand and gave a little chuckle. "Like a nutcracker?"

"Well, sure you could!" Winry replied. She raised her arm, holding it horizontally, bent at the elbow. She tapped her forearm. "You could have a simple base made out of something lightweight, like wood, that could be molded to fit and attached with straps. Leather would work pretty well," she said eagerly, the ideas rapidly forming in her head even as she spoke. "Then you could fix a metal housing on it with a female coupling, and you could have a whole collection of attachments with male ends that would screw right in!"

Setara dropped the almonds she had in her hand and covered her mouth, turning bright red and giggling. Stoyan calmly continued to gather up almonds, trying to keep the grin off his face. Bojil regarded Winry with a raised eyebrow.

"That'd be one cheeky female," he remarked dryly.

Winry found herself blushing as well. She sometimes got carried away with being a gearhead. It had taken her a while to realize what had sent Mr. Garfiel into such paroxysms of laughter. She must have forgotten. She cleared her throat. "Well…you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yes, child, I do," Bojil replied with a chuckle. "I suppose it's crossed my mind once or twice, but Setara is already my extra pair of hands, and when Farzam isn't at his studies, he helps, too." He lifted his injured arm and contemplated the scarred stump thoughtfully. "It'd be handy, I suppose, but nobody around here makes stuff like that, not that I know of, anyway."

Winry gave a little bounce. "I can! Compared to automail, it'd be a cinch!"

Bojil looked at her in surprise. "I…I suppose it would be." Then he gave a shrug. "I don't know, though. We're doing pretty well, but I'm not sure I really ought to spend the money."

"Oh, I wouldn't charge you anything, Mr. Bojil!" Winry said. She looked at him solemnly. "My parents didn't charge anyone here, and I wouldn't either. I'll even pay for the materials. If I could do something to continue their work in Ishval, I'd do it in a heartbeat!"

Bojil looked at her fondly. He stepped up to her and patted her cheek. "Aren't you a dear one!" he said warmly. "If it means that much to you, I'd be happy to oblige!"

When they had finished gathering the almonds, Bojil declared they had enough for the time being and he thanked Winry and Stoyan for their help. "Me and my grandkids will be spending the evening cracking these." He and Setara grasped the metal bar of the wagon handle and with a parting wave, they left for home.

"That was a very kind offer, Winry," Stoyan said. "But will you have the time for a project like that?"

Winry lifted her shoulders. "I haven't really decided how long I'm staying, so I guess it doesn't matter." She smiled with satisfaction. "Besides, now I get to do my part for the restoration of Ishval." She thought for a moment, pulling on her lower lip. "Does anybody around here have a machine shop?"

Stoyan thought for a moment. "There are some engineers stationed at the fort," he said. "They might have some sort of metal working tools. We also have a couple of blacksmiths," he added. "One of the teachers at the school, Saahad Imir, has a cousin who's a blacksmith."

"Good! That'll do for the attachments. How about anybody who works with leather?"

"It depends. We do have a few people who work with animal hides, but the few cows we have in Ishval are still using theirs," Stoyan replied with a slight smile. "Right now, any cow leather is imported. Would goatskin work well enough? It's very durable."

"Yeah," Winry said, slowly and doubtfully. "But it might be too thin and soft. I can have some leather sent in if I have to. Now, let me see…what else…oh!" she exclaimed suddenly. "That Stanno guy! He's a carpenter! I can commission him to make the wooden piece!"

"You could ask him," Stoyan said in a somewhat dubious tone. "He might overcharge you."

Winry shrugged, unconcerned. "Then maybe I'll just ask to use his equipment and make it myself. All I really need is a lathe, and he must have one."

Stoyan looked even more dubious. "Like I said, you could ask. Would you like me to come with you?"

Winry's brows pinched anxiously. "Oh, but I've already used up so much of your time!"

"It's been nothing but a pleasure," Stoyan assured her. "But I think you shouldn't go by yourself to speak to Zhaarad Stanno. He's…" He frowned slightly, searching for words. "He's not easy to bargain with," he said, giving the impression that those were not necessarily the words he wanted to use.

Winry gave a little wave of her hand. "It's all right. I've heard about ZhaaradStanno. And I already met him. I can handle myself, but if it would make you feel better, you can certainly come along." She smiled. "You have to show me where his shop is, after all."

Stoyan was still hesitant. "I don't know. Zhaarad Andakar placed you in my care, and he might…worry."

Winry gave a huff of impatience. "If Zhaarad Andakar has a problem with it, I can deal with him, too." She laid her hand on the young Ishvalan's arm. "This is important to me, Stoyan!"

Stoyan let out a helpless sigh. "Of course, Zha—" Seeing the warning arch of Winry's brow, he caught himself. "Winry."

Stanno scowled doubtfully at the Amestrian girl standing before him. Just behind her stood that flute player, Andakar's shadow, looking like a watchdog ready to bite.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I don't have time for small bit work like that."

Winry planted her fists on her hips. "If it's so small bit, then it's not exactly going to take very long, is it?" she shot back. "How much would you charge?"

Stanno folded his arms. "How much have you got?"

Winry's blue eyes went steely. "Listen, I've dealt with machinists from Resembool to Rush Valley. If all you're gonna do is give me crap, I'll go somewhere else."

Stanno shrugged and turned away to retreat into his workshop. "How about you do that, then? I only deal in large works."

"Oh, yeah?" Winry countered slyly. "I saw that bracelet you made for Rada. That looked pretty small bit to me."

Stanno paused and looked back at her with a dark look. "That was a special circumstance," he said in a warning tone. "And I can guarantee that you won't find work like that anywhere else in Amestris."

Winry feigned a yawn. "Well, good for you. If I want something flowery, I guess I'll look you up. In the meantime, I need to make a prosthetic arm for an old man who happens to live in the district that you're supposed to be chieftain of." She lifted her shoulders and turned away. "I could make it myself in no time flat, if it comes to that."

Stanno let out an incredulous laugh. "You?"

It was Winry's turn to sneer. "That's right! I usually work with metal, but wood isn't much of a challenge. I am a highly trained automail engineer, after all."

Stanno couldn't keep the look of surprise off his face. "Automail?"

"Rockbell Automail," Winry replied loftily. "Third generation, thank you very much! I'd give you my card, but, well, I'm on vacation." She shrugged dismissively and turned away again, heading out to the street, striding past her somewhat bemused escort. "I think we're done here, ZhaaradStoyan. If there's someone more civic minded that you could recommend—"

"Wait a second!" Stanno called.

Winry paused and looked at him cooly over her shoulder. "Yes?"

Stanno leaned against the doorway of his workshop. "You're an automail engineer?"

Winry looked at Stoyan and cupped her hand to her ear. "Is there an echo in here?"

Stanno's eyes narrowed. "How old are you?"

"I'm eighteen," Winry replied, "if you mustknow."

The carpenter regarded the girl with a look of renewed appraisal. "You can work a lathe?"

Winry snapped her fingers. "With my eyes closed. Which, of course," she added quickly, "is very dangerous."

Stanno nodded slowly. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "All right," he said after a moment. "Like I said, I don't have the time. I'm working on an oak desk that I'm shipping out in a week. A commission from some rich bastard in South City. His son's at the fort here. I have a lot riding on this piece." His smile grew a little. "My reputation could go nationwide. But if all you need to do is turn a single piece of stock, then I'll let you use my lathe for a couple of hours."

"How about tomorrow?" Winry promptly asked. "And how much will you charge me? Seriously," she added, her brows furrowing.

"We'll work out something reasonable," Stanno assured her. "I'll even throw in a piece of scrap wood you can use."

Winry gave a nod and held out her hand. "Fair enough."

Stanno gave a mild smirk and shook her hand. "Come by around ten tomorrow morning."

"I'll see you at ten."

Winry turned and strode away and Stoyan had to jog a few steps to catch up with her. She gave him a smug look out of the corner of her eye as he regarded her with open admiration. "Told you I could handle myself."

By the time Stoyan walked Winry to the front door, Scar was already home. He stood out in the courtyard talking to Dejan, who fell silent for a moment as the two young people walked by. Winry waved.

"I'm sorry I kept Stoyan for so long," she told Scar. "He's been wonderful!"

"I'm glad to hear it," Scar replied, noting the sudden, subtle rosy hue of Stoyan's face.

"I had just come out to watch for you," Dejan said to his flute player. "Naisha says dinner's nearly in hand."

"Oh!" Winry looked toward Scar's house. "I should go in and help Rada. Thanks again, Stoyan!"

"Will you need me tomorrow?" the young man asked.

Winry shook her head. "That's nice of you, but I can manage just fine. I think ZhaaradAndakar is going to need you back at work tomorrow," she added with a smile. With another wave she went inside.

Stoyan turned to the two men. "Winry is going to build an arm for Zhaarad Bojil. She's very excited about it."

Scar's brows lifted slightly. "Did he change his mind about the automail?"

"No, she's just going to make a standard prosthetic," Stoyan replied. "She said it won't take more than a couple of days. But that's why we were gone for so long. She's enlisted the help of a number of craftsmen for the materials."

"Busy little bee, isn't she?" Dejan remarked.

Stoyan nodded and grinned. "I had trouble keeping up with her," he said as he headed toward Dejan's house.

Dejan watched him as he crossed the courtyard and went inside. The lanky musician dropped his head, looking down at his feet as he idly kicked a pebble. "Crap," he muttered.

Scar frowned slightly. "What's the matter?"

Dejan looked up. "Tell me a bit more about our Miss Winry. More specifically, please tell me she already has a fellow."

"Yes, she does," Scar replied. "She's—"

Dejan gripped Scar's upper arm. "Is it serious? Are they engaged?"

"That's what she told Rada yesterday. Mattas was hanging off my neck, yelling in my ear at the time. I haven't yet pressed her for details." Scar gave his friend a puzzled look. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I'm more than a little concerned that Stoyan's head may have been turned a little too far by your Miss Winry Rockbell," Dejan replied, lowering his voice a little. "She's a lovely girl, to be sure, and I wish her every happiness in the world, especially if she has definite prospects elsewhere, if you catch my drift."

Scar shook his head. "I don't."

Dejan regarded his friend somberly. "I know she's only eleven, but Mika is already sweet on our Stoyan. She's known him practically all her life, and now nature's finally taking a hand. I don't want him getting snatched up by another girl before my baby is old enough to get married."

"Don't you think you're placing your hopes too high?" Scar asked with a doubtful frown. "A lot can happen in the next seven or eight years."

"Listen, I'm willing to shave a few years off of that time if it'll get the job done."

"Dejan!"

"It's not unheard of!" Dejan argued. "Back in the old days, girls were married off at fifteen."

"Dejan!"

"Fine." Dejan lifted his hands. "Just do me a favor and set my mind at rest. I'm appealing to you as the father of daughters."

Scar sighed resignedly. "I'll do what I can. But I really don't think you have anything to worry about as far as Winry is concerned."

"I'm glad to hear it." Dejan stepped closer to Scar and pointed a finger in his face. "And I'll thank you to keep that boy busy at work and not escorting pretty girls around Ishval."

Scar pushed him away with good-natured gruffness. "Go home, Dejan!"

Scar regarded Winry with a critical, dubious expression. "And that's all he said? I recall him boasting that he had a pretty smooth tongue. You'd think he could come up with something better than that."

Winry drew herself up defensively. "I knew what he meant!"

"Are you sure about that?" Scar gave Mattas a boost against his backside as the toddler was trying to climb up onto the seat beside his father. "Are you sure you were both talking about the same thing?"

"Of course I'm sure!" Winry countered indignantly. "And I thought it was sweet!"

"I think it was sweet, too," Rada said smoothly, giving Scar a little shove against his shoulder.

"It was original, I suppose," Scar muttered. He handed Mattas a small piece of flatbread. When he looked back at Winry, his expression softened at the glower she was giving him. "I'm sorry, Winry. This is Edward Elric we're talking about, after all."

Winry opened her mouth to give another retort, but she then gave a little grudging shrug. "Well, yeah…" After a moment, she added with more conviction, "But he's dedicated most of his life to alchemy, one way or another, and now he's on a personal mission to help people!"

"And he is to be commended for it," Scar replied. "At some point, however, he ought to dedicate his life to you."

"He will," Winry assured him primly. Her expression relaxed into a slightly wry smile. "Besides, that's not something you have to worry about."

Scar nodded, conceding the point, inwardly reluctant. "No, I don't suppose it is."