It had been approximately two and a half months from the day All Hell Had Broken Loose (as one short-tempered and heighted alchemist had christened it; known formally as the 'Promised Day') when I noticed the Twitch.

My sight was still a bit fuzzy in one eye but otherwise I was 'fit for duty', the doctors declared in the end; presumably after the dozenth or so time I'd requested an eye exam that day. (I'd lost count myself.) Nonetheless, I couldn't help but feel that my eyes had betrayed me when I glimpsed the slight jerk that wracked the face of my regrettably no-longer quite as short subordinate.

"Fullmetal," I repeated—there it was, that Twitch the boy couldn't quite hide; signs of an irked temper usually reserved for assumptions made about said subordinate's height. But there had been no provocations yet, I had merely addressed the boy, and surely even Ed needed a reason to pull such a face?

"What have I done to offend your precious sensibilities now, Fullmetal?" Perhaps he was just cranky after mother-henning his brother all these weeks.

Again the Twitch. Ed scowled. "Nothing, alright? Just get on with this stupid meeting so I can get back to Al."

"Obviously it's not nothing, Fullmetal, if every time I utter your name you seem to undergo spasms—"

"That's not my name!" Ed burst out, and flushed as his scowl deepened.

"What, 'Fullmetal'?"

"Yeah," he ground out through another Twitch. "I resigned from the military, remember? I'm no use to you guys anymore."

I'm not an alchemist anymore.

Ouch. So that's what was eating him.

"Fullmetal," I deadpanned. "Just because you can no longer clap your hands and turn pointy objects into life-size bobbleheads of yourself does not mean you're not useful."

Twitch-flush-scowl.

"Now, the last time I checked, your stubborn little brain—"I cut off his squawks with a smirk"—hasn't been damaged. Unless your overblown growth spurt affected your head?"

Well. What an interesting shade of fuchsia.

"No? Pity. Well, in that case, you are most certainly still a valuable asset to this office."

See? Even I'm capable of niceness every now and then. I should make it an annual thing.

"Your alchemic genius remains, even if you can no longer execute it yourself. You have ties to people throughout our nation, and its neighbors. People still love you, for unfathomable reasons. And if you haven't let yourself go soft, you're probably still a hell of a brawler."

Huh. Kinda sounded like compliments. I must be going soft.

"Pocket watch or not, we'll still be calling you up for consultations," I concluded. He nodded sullenly. "But—" his head snapped up from his intense perusal of his worn leather boots, looking for the catch"—if it truly bothers you that much, I'll drop the old title."

I've never been as relieved to get my sight back; for in all my years, I've never seen Edward Elric so speechless. It was a bit unnatural, really, like a Fuery with facial hair or an unarmed Riza. I basked in it for a few moments before succumbing to the quip that I'd been dying to let loose since the day I Had Nearly Lost Everything.

"After your restoration and all, I agree that 'Quartermetal' is more appropriate."

AN: Yes, Mustang is a sadist...he filled up his niceness quota for the year, remember?

(And we all know 'Everything's name is Riza Hawkeye.)

Feel free to drop a review-I love getting feedback! :-) And there's more chapters coming, promise. They'll probably be nicer to Ed. Maybe.