[She turns, picking up the glass of whiskey as he flips through the music. Something softens in her when a hair of tension drops from his shoulders. Riza is far too stubborn to admit it, but she has an affectionate spot for the brothers they had found in Resembool all those years ago.

He fiddles with the jukebox, and she hesitates again, tempted to feel if he's real. To smooth a loose strand of blonde from his face. Ordinarily she's not so touchy; internally she chalks it up to being trapped in a place that was cheerfully calling itself Hell.

And he asks what's happened, and the free hand feels the scrape on her chin as she laughs, weakly.] It's that obvious?

The Fürher felt the Colonel was meddling in affairs he'd best stay out of. They reassigned us across Amestris to keep him in check. [She swirls the whiskey in her glass, considers the man before her, and sighs.]

It's strange relaying this to you, considering the Colonel told me your initial reaction was to say that I am the perfect hostage.