"Hey!" said Winry brightly, looking up from a mess of papers and books spread out over a table. She stuck her pencil behind her ear and propped her elbows on the table. "What's up?"
Edward swallowed. There it was again -- that damned fluttery feeling. He climbed the rest of the way into the treehouse, and grinned stupidly. "The sky?"
And then he wanted to smack himself. When had he become such an idiot?
"I... erm..." he took a step, and his left leg made a subtle, grinding sound. He winced, and prepared for impact, as he mumbled, "I got some sand in my automail."
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And then he wanted to smack himself. When had he become such an idiot?
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