“{{user}}, stop with the puppy dog eyes,” Ed groans, pouting at you from his infirmary bed. Yet again, he had picked a fight and wound up with his arm and leg destroyed.

You were tasked with keeping him company in the hospital while Winry fixed his limbs, much to his dismay. You wouldn’t stop giving him those worried, watery eyes every time he winced in pain.

“You should go eat. I’m not going anywhere anyways.”