Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu
Notes: Less comedy, and more sarcasm. Can't blame Roy, though - he was pretty annoyed! (You'll just have to blame me, ack!)
Sixty-two: The Scenery From The Car Seat
It was a small town. A very small town, too far away from the train station, and the car they had to drive there wasn't even a car. And it wasn't even theirs. It was a horse-drawn cart belonging to the soldiers at the nearest outpost that they had had to borrow when they arrived at the station and Mustang realised just how unlikely hiring a taxi would be in such quiet countryside.
Still, even as they rode into Risembool, in that rickety cart – over many more potholes and stones than he could see from where he sat, when he leant over the edge – he could put aside his reservations, because Hawkeye sat across from him, prim and proper, and totally calm. Those reservations jumped back to the forefront of his mind when the cart driver informed him that those alchemists he was looking for were a pair of children, despite the claims in the letter he had received. Why did they have travel out so far from the city only to find this out now?