no subject

[Stare away, Mr. Colonel, he's staring right back at'cha — and he's listening carefully, every piece of information feeling weighty the moment Roy speaks... and it sounds rough, but the longer he talks, the more a weight he'd forgotten he had begins to lift off his shoulders. He rubs his forehead and looks a bit more relieved, de-stressed, his lips curving just a little into a satisfied smile. He's worried about the weight in Roy's words — but he said they're together, and they're okay. And that's what matters. Maybe his death amounted to something, and maybe it did mean much at all, but there's at least that knowledge. Things are okay. Okay. In their line of work... that is kind of extraordinary.]

Ah... Good. Then it all worked out somehow. I can just imagine Ms. Armstrong's ire.

[.... Wait a sec.]

Alphonse is recovering?

[Roy, dude, he's not a mind-reader (shocking, he knows), he can't tell the kid's fleshy again from just that.]