[He runs a hand over his face, looking a bit disheveled now that the energetic quirkiness has lifted enough that he's serious; he's kind of on low fuel as of late, working more than he's eating and sleeping, but this — this isn't good. Mustang's spooked by the place, seems to be kind of out of it, and — are those scars? He steps forward, not daunted by the way Roy pulls his hand (he knows just what that means, but fuck it).]
What the hell happened? Your hands.
[The Fuhrer-to-be doesn't need scars where his gloves usually go, huh?
Someone impaled them. And cut off Mustang's source of power.
And that is very concerning for a number of reasons he left behind in a phone booth.]
no subject
[He runs a hand over his face, looking a bit disheveled now that the energetic quirkiness has lifted enough that he's serious; he's kind of on low fuel as of late, working more than he's eating and sleeping, but this — this isn't good. Mustang's spooked by the place, seems to be kind of out of it, and — are those scars? He steps forward, not daunted by the way Roy pulls his hand (he knows just what that means, but fuck it).]
What the hell happened? Your hands.
[The Fuhrer-to-be doesn't need scars where his gloves usually go, huh?
Someone impaled them. And cut off Mustang's source of power.
And that is very concerning for a number of reasons he left behind in a phone booth.]