there was a young woman from boobville ...

*throws arms up over his head*

I WIN!!!

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This calls for champagne!

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Hey, before the champagne can you, like, make a shield with that TK-whatever you were talking about?

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Hagane... *glares from under the bangs*

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Holy fuck I'm dead.

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You DO know how much alcohol is in you right now, I believe? *smirks darkly*

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*throws a mug of beer at Mustang*

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*sidesteps the flying drink, pulling his gloved right hand out of his pocket with a smug look* Your aim has gotten worse.

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A shield? Well, kinda.. *darts over, reaching out for one of Ed's wrists* Just, uh, stay behind me. Why am I doing this again?

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Because I don't like being extra-crispy?

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*peers confusedly over his shoulder at Ed* Whatnow?

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Put a bubble around Mustang or something or we're all gonna suffer!

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Don't tell me your running away, Hagane.

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Running away? Not a chance. Hiding behind somebody bigger? You bet your ass!

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You really are a coward after all. *disgusted look*

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Hey, not dying is kind of high on my list of priorities, y'know? I got things to accomplish.

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I'm glad you finally remembered. By the way, we have a few things we need you to investigate...

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Dude, your superiors give you the KFC treatment on a regular enough basis that you know to recognize the warning signs? You should totally sue. *boggles, and peers between the pair of them*

You two should play nicey-nice. Or at least non-violently. I dunno about you two, but I'm bulletproof, so if fecal matter hits spinning blades, I'll totally go tattle to the crazy chick.

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I don't understand this concept of "sue."

And, we're not usually... too violent.

Hey, I'm partially bulletproof. Although that's never fun. I prefer to not be around when the shooting starts. Less death that way.

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Lawsuit? You sic lawyers on 'em for monetary recompensation for mental, emotional, and physical anguish you suffer at their hands? Cool stuff.

See, my life's all about the being-bulletproof. It's kinda cool. Ricochet's a bitch, though.

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Eh, lawyers. I tend to stay out of that stuff, last thing I need is to get my butt court-martialed for that... um ... "incident" five years ago.

It must suck to have people shooting at you all the time. Half the time I get shot at and I have no clue what is going on. It's not fair. At least the handful of times the bullets hit my arm at an angle they richocted back into the shooter. There's karma for ya.

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