[Action]

[installing]

[Wow there are a lot of new people running around. Some how this feels... wrong and familiar at the same time. Winry's not really sure she wants to get into the large crowd, so she'll watch from the door of the smithy. She's in her normal work outfit, but because of the weather she has it zipped up. If anyone wants to bother her - or come out of the cold because the smithy is generally much warmer than outside - go right ahead.

Comments

[defiantjoyce]

[ she laces her fingers with winry's. perfectly trusting. ]

Aye aye! Following!

[installing]

I don't make weapons, but most of my work is in metal limbs. Do you know about prosthesis?

[defiantjoyce]

Issat some kinda...writing thing? [ WHY DOES ONE NEED TO PROSE IN A SMITHY, SHE WONDERS? ]

[installing]

No, no. It's fake limbs made to help people who lost their real ones.

[defiantjoyce]

Aye! I know -- father tells stories of a man with a wooden leg. He keeps grape juice in it. Is that what you do? Can you make me a wooden leg what can have waffles in it?

[ ... ] Or does it have to be juice?

[installing]

It's more advance than some silly wooden leg.

[defiantjoyce]

...But a wooden leg is piratical! It is fierce!

[ if there was any doubt who's daughter she is before now? hah. ]

[installing]

A wooden leg would rot, snap in half, and give you splinters.

[defiantjoyce]

...Not if you looked after it. Prop-er-ly.

[installing]

Wooden legs can't bend or have toes.

[defiantjoyce]

Oh.

[ give her a moment. she needs to seriously consider this. ]

[installing]

[When they get to her work bench Winry lets go of Joyce's hand. The mechanic reaches into a box to pull out a standard automail arm. One of Ed's spares.]

This is what I make.