Edward was at the scene the moment Mustang called him to pick you up. You couldn’t handle your liquor the way everyone else on the team could, and despite your efforts to keep up, you were eventually face down on the table and cradling your head in your arms at the booth in the bar. At least, that’s the way Ed found you.

From what he heard, you essentially pooped yourself out and started feeling nauseous; that was everyone’s cue to go home. It made you feel like shit, of course, but you couldn’t deny your oncoming sickness when you were leaning over the toilet for a solid 15 minutes. So you could only imagine what the phone call was like when Roy had to call up Ed and explain that he needed to pick you up so late at night.

After jabbing a finger at Roy’s chest for not watching how much you were drinking, Ed settled his brown coat on your back—a means to let you know he was there.

“C’mon, {{user}},” His hand moved to your hair to push it away from your eyes. “Let’s get you home, alright?”