The Same Coin

Then Hesitated Some More

Winry awoke to a finger tracing up and down her ankle, and Hisoka's shoes in her face.

She yanked her legs to her chest as she bolted upright, then every ache and pain she hadn't been aware of yet flared at once. She only remembered sitting down on the floor, worn to exhaustion, and that was her last memory. The street lamps outside had still been on then, but now the orange of dawn was coming through her window.

Hisoka didn't startle at her sudden movement. His eyelids merely opened into narrow slits that were already focused on her. Had he even been asleep? Did he know how disquieting he was? She felt like he did, and that this was all purposeful. Maybe it had begun as intentional and settled into something that was merely second nature.

Ren had been more difficult than he'd made it seem like it would be, and when he'd said attack she'd worried at first that it might actually be capable of hurting him — before deciding hurting him probably wasn't the worst outcome that could happen, and she didn't know why she worried about him anyway. By the time she'd sat down on the ground, slick with sweat and ready to pass out — something she'd managed, apparently — Hisoka had at least stopped looking bored with her. She could see her aura snapping and recoiling like violent waves while she struggled to maintain it. It was much stronger than the wispy tendrils of steam from a few hours before.

Hisoka dismissed her with a wave of his hand and closed his eyes again. The tightness in Winry's chest loosened gratefully at his disinterest in her, and quickly grabbed fresh overalls and shirt then retreated to the bathroom. She purposefully locked it, then rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. She was almost certain he had chuckled on the other side of the door for the same reason. If he wanted to intrude on her, no flimsy lock would be able to stop him.

She kept her shower short and sweet anyway. When she emerged from the shower, her hands bunched into tiny fists of anger. He had moved to lay on top of her bed, fingers laced behind his head, and — for all intents and purposes — fast asleep. Winry put her hair back in a ponytail, covered it with a bandana, then went to work as though he wasn't there.

Her entire day was a poignant reminder, however, that he was. Her body ached, she felt like if she stopped moving for a moment she would fall asleep. The real issue, however, was that she couldn't stop moving. Her body ached from sleeping on the floor but she fizzed inside. She couldn't stop moving even if she wanted to.

You're not tired. You're bored.

"What are you doing here?" Garfiel asked over her shoulder.

Winry reflexively looked back at him then slid her goggles up onto her forehead. She could feel her bangs sticking upright under them but she had already segued into her explanation.

"I felt like the ground reaction force wasn't balanced during vigorous motions. When I was demoing it, the gait didn't seem natural, so I was fabricating a different spring—"

"I'd been using that style of spring for the past five years though," Garfiel began thoughtfully.

"I mean, I can still use an air pressure spring, but for what they said they want to do I thought a more compression spring style would be better. So I just started to—"

"You can keep going after your appointment," Garfiel said with a flippant shrug. "As long as it works."

"Appointment?"

"You have a consultation. It was scheduled to begin a few minutes ago but you didn't come out — that's why I came in to check on you."

Winry felt herself scowling. She already knew. She already damn knew exactly who she was going to find as she turned away from Garfiel. She didn't catch his comment about the "odd fellow" as she stomped toward the store front.