[ The food might well be the only redeeming things about these fancy-ass balls. Yes, Ed is convinced of this. From the very start of the evening, this whole thing has been nothing but a sour sequence of events for him. They stopped him at the doorway, right in front of the rest of the other guests, because of the pants he was wearing. Edward can still remember the doorman's nasally voice (though, the reality might not have been quite as obnoxious as he imagines it) as he refused him entry, stating something about how he couldn't wear leather pants with his shirt and blazer.
Naturally, Ed took that as a sight against his sense of style. He almost stormed home, too, if not for the miracle of Al's patience and persuasive power.
So here he is, in full formal attire, and looking like a miserable monkey in a suit. It's stuffy, and he really doesn't know what he's supposed to do at a ball. Plus, he spent the last ten minutes all alone, too. Al had went somewhere on his own, and Winry was stolen away by some other young man who proved himself too persistent for her to keep refusing. (Not that that matters to Ed. She can dance with whoever she wants to. Whatever.)
All he has are these tiny eclairs. These tiny eclairs, and a vague feeling of irritation at the sight of all those happy dancers (No, seriously, Winry can dance with whoever she wants. Not his problem.). Come bother the guy who's looking miserable at a corner? ]
no subject
Naturally, Ed took that as a sight against his sense of style. He almost stormed home, too, if not for the miracle of Al's patience and persuasive power.
So here he is, in full formal attire, and looking like a miserable monkey in a suit. It's stuffy, and he really doesn't know what he's supposed to do at a ball. Plus, he spent the last ten minutes all alone, too. Al had went somewhere on his own, and Winry was stolen away by some other young man who proved himself too persistent for her to keep refusing. (Not that that matters to Ed. She can dance with whoever she wants to. Whatever.)
All he has are these tiny eclairs. These tiny eclairs, and a vague feeling of irritation at the sight of all those happy dancers (No, seriously, Winry can dance with whoever she wants. Not his problem.). Come bother the guy who's looking miserable at a corner? ]