Late
Winry prides herself on never leaving a job unfinished. She has always hated to walk away from any task, no matter how arduous or menial, when there is still more work to be done on it. Even when she manages to tear herself momentarily from the chore at hand, if only go to the bathroom, she finds it difficult to prevent herself from thinking endlessly about the half-a-lasagne, or the jumble of wires, or the semi-written letter, or whatever it is, lying abandoned and unfulfilled on the table. Although she tries not to let the thought bother her, a picture of the poor unfinished item swims almost plaintively into her head, and the image needles and worries her, and makes her feel uncomfortable and ill at ease.
However, even these moments are rare, as most of the time she is unable to bring herself to put her work down anyway. It is not worth it. The sense of satisfaction she gets from completing a task in one go makes up for the tiredness it produces in her, anyway.
So, finding herself midway through plotting out the wirework of a new left foot for the boy down the road when she heard Al calling her to dinner, she yells down that she'll be with him in a moment, and continues working, at an increased speed.
Finally she unbends herself from over the workbench, stretching out her spine and shoulders with a satisfying creak, lifts the magnifying lenses from her eyes and switches off the bright overhead lamp. Done.
She makes her way to the kitchen, sighing in relief and rubbing her eyes. It has taken her a little longer that she expected, due to some problems with the ankle joint, but she isn't all that hungry, so she can only be a few minutes late.
She walks into the kitchen, and stops short at the sight before her.
Al is sitting alone at the table, staring straight ahead at the door, a number of untouched dishes sitting mournfully on the clean tablecloth before him, his chin resting on the heel of his hand. He sits up eagerly as he catches sight of her. "Winry!"
She doesn't reply. Her eyes are wide with confusion.
"Um, I waited for you," he says meekly, gesturing around him. "It might be a little cold though. . ."
"Where's Ed?" she asks him.
He winces slightly, apologetically. "He's already eaten and left. Sorry Winry, I couldn't-"
She huffs in outrage, grabbing a chair and sitting angrily. "Couldn't he have waited just a few minutes for me to finish my work? Honestly, that man. . ."
Al frowns in confusion. "A few minutes? It's been forty five, Winry . . ."
She stares at him, silenced at once.
"Didn't you realise? Aren't you hungry?"
She opens her mouth to answer, but her stomach provides an affirmation for her. She puts her hand on it in surprise. "I hadn't noticed. . ." She looks up at him. "You waited all this time?"
He shrugs it off, clearly embarrassed. "We ought to eat together."
Her face opens up into a grateful smile. "Thank you," she says.
She moves towards him, and they meet flawlessly across the table.
Winry has always hated to leave a job unfinished. Sometimes this trait causes trouble, as it is so easy for her to forget herself. But sometimes, she reflects silently to herself then, the quality can have its own, very beneficial perks.
Author's notes: I am like this myself- very much so, in fact. It's kind of nice for a Hitchhiker's fan like me that the 42nd installment in this series is a very personal one for me. :3