( Winry goes from pressing the water out of her hair to tossing her towel negligently to the side while he's rolling up his sleeve. No, he's right -- his automail doesn't show any immediate signs of damage.
But that's not the automail she'd sent Ed off with. His open invitation to look all she wants -- which she would without an invitation, she was supposed to know her own handiwork inside and out -- is met with a meticulous inspection and both hands on his arm, as if feeling would tell her what she wasn't learning just by seeing.
This was craftsmanship, and that's usually exciting for her, but... )
You let another mechanic work on your arm?
( The thought is so preposterous and absurd she's not even sure how to sound -- angry, confused, a mixture of both, something like indignant? )
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But that's not the automail she'd sent Ed off with. His open invitation to look all she wants -- which she would without an invitation, she was supposed to know her own handiwork inside and out -- is met with a meticulous inspection and both hands on his arm, as if feeling would tell her what she wasn't learning just by seeing.
This was craftsmanship, and that's usually exciting for her, but... )
You let another mechanic work on your arm?
( The thought is so preposterous and absurd she's not even sure how to sound -- angry, confused, a mixture of both, something like indignant? )