#// YES FINALLY SOME EMO FMA FAN SOLIDARITY

[plantmusic]

[ @justaradioguy​ ]

Fuery's head snapped up and left, though the droplets on his glasses coupled with the lighting prevented him from seeing much.

He could make out some shadowy blob, and that was pretty much it.

The voice was masculine, though, and the accent... Drachman, maybe? The last word certainly was.

Breda would have been much better suited to handle this, with how well he could hold at least small talk in most of Amestris' neighboring countries' languages. He'd be able to at least explain to the stranger in said stranger's own language that he didn't mean harm. Generally, people reacted well to efforts made into understanding them and it would probably soften the blow if they happened to hate the military.

Kain, on the other hand, knew only Amestrian and a handful of phrases from other tongues. He wouldn't dare use them now, since not a single one applied to the current situation. He hoped the dark would obscure his uniform long enough for him to explain himself, because he knew all too well how tense things were up north. Drachma didn't typically mix well with Amestris (hence why Fort Briggs existed at all), and Kain wasn't sure if this stranger fell on an opposing side, if he sided with Amestris, or if he avoided the politics altogether.

Not that he was supposed to know much of all the tension, but tapping phone lines was as much of a part of his job as it was a hobby he liked, and he'd listened to quite a few conversations on Mustang's behalf.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. I'm just trying to get out of the rain," he explained, his tone as friendly as he could manage being as nervous as he was. "I can go figure out something else if I'm bothering you. I don't mean to be trouble, honestly."

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Russell had done it on purpose. He was perfectly capable of mimicking an Amestrian accent, and did so more often than not out of obligation to not draw attention to himself and his brother, but when it was one-on-one and he got the opportunity to throw someone off their groove? Здравствуйте, bitches, he’s back.

So it went without saying that he derived a great amount of amusement from the nervousness that this stranger tried to talk past, and because of that he couldn’t hide the way his own lips pulled into a smirk as he let the smoke filter between them.

Wordlessly, he marked his page and snapped the book shut with one hand before standing up from the swing. 

(Oh fuck, he’s tall.)

"A bit late and stormy for someone to have been out wandering around, isn’t it?” He asked, a faint chuckle underlining his voice, which was now lighter though still bassy and with the adopted accent. 

He took a step closer, owed in part to his longer than average stride, and the porch light illuminated him more than what the embers in the pipe had been doing.

And for being so tall, he looked so young; baby-faced despite the sharpness of his eyes and willowy (though a bit more on the androgynous side) in his build. But still, fucking hell, he had to tilt his head down in order to actually meet the man’s eyes! The yellowy light also revealed that he wasn’t dressed for the weather either, sporting a gray tank top and comfortable black capris, yet he didn’t seem to care much about the chilly fall air.

Russell rose a brow and held the stem mouthpiece of his pipe against his lips.