#[ comms // justaradioguy ]

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[ @forgotten-teammates​​ ]

He watched as the embers went out, offering a friendly smile once asked his name.

"Kain Fuery, it's nice to meet you."

His rank wasn't really that important, not to some random kid, so he omitted it. He was more interested in being personable than stiff and overly formal - he'd always been that way, in stark contrast to a majority of other soldiers he'd encountered. Of course, his own team was a bit different (some would even call them 'weird'), but outside of them... even beyond the walls of the command center soldiers held boring, cold interactions. Kain has never been interested in being that way outside of what was necessary, too warm and bright of a person to try to adhere to strictness that ultimately did not benefit anyone. So, he extended his hand when he asked a mirrored question.

"What about yours?"

____________________

"Kain." He parroted with a nod.

One could say that names were a sore subject for Russell, given his history with them. Upon being asked for his own, he very nearly replied in kind with the stolen one he wore for so long. It was there, gnawing at the tip of his tongue like a fish parasite, but he elected to not let it slip.

(Not when saying it to the wrong person nearly cost him his life, which was what started him on the straight(ish) and narrow.)

"Russell." He wouldn't bother with his last name in the off chance that the other knew of his arrest record. Impersonating a state alchemist is a pretty hard thing to scrub.

He stepped easily past in the direction of the front door, fluid in his movement like Fuery was nothing more than another one of the many potted plants sitting on the step, and let it swing open inwards, book tucked against his hip and smouldering pipe between his lips "Come in, leave your shoes by the door. If my brother comes home to mud stains on the rug, he'll come for my shins."

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #[ comms // forgotten-teammates ] #[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ] #// oh sweet thoth this is old #// old enough that i now have to ping theo's new blog #// gods i had to reread this one back before replying 😭 #// no shame if you have to do the same too this one went unanswered for over ten months

[plantmusic]

[ @justaradioguy​ ]

Kain wasn't one for thunderstorms.

Well, at least not now.

Not when his car needed a jump well after the people on his team had all dispersed and gone home for the evening. It left him walking on his own out in the rain, which would have felt lovely if it had been just a little warmer outside.

At least the wool outer layer that was an Amestrian uniform - however heavy it was when bogged down with water - shielded him a little from the biting wind. He shoved his hands into his pockets, lowering his head a little to try and keep some of the water off his glasses.

It was a vain effort, but he was almost home - just a mile or so - and tomorrow wouldn't be that bad since he could call someone to come pick him up before work.

Sure, his team was full of sarcastic, bitter assholes, but he still had pretty good faith that they wouldn't force him to walk through cold late-October weather if they were aware of the situation... even if it would mean relentless teasing from Havoc, a disappointed sigh from Hawkeye, and God-only-knew-what from Mustang. Breda probably wouldn't bother to comment, and Falman at least wouldn't be a pain about it, so those were both a relief.

A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by quite possibly the loudest thunderclap Kain had ever heard in his life.

It was no longer safe to be outside.

With a now-slightly-elevated pulse, he looked around to see if maybe any houses on the street had the lights on. Maybe, just maybe, he'd get some good karma or something.

One. There was one single illuminated house on the block, and he almost couldn't get to it fast enough considering the fact another loud boom of thunder sent him practically flying towards the front door. Despite how badly he wanted to be in there and not outside, though, he knocked politely, as if there were no threat to his life going on whatsoever and this was as simple as a neighbor needing to borrow an egg.

____________________

If you asked him, Russell wouldn’t be able to give an answer on the ratio of fogged breath to smoke or how long he had been sitting out on the porch. 

The only illumination came from the porch light and the occasional red flare from inside the bowl of his pipe whenever he took a drag. He’d been sitting on the swing, smoking and reading peacefully in the chilly night air, when the storm rolled in.

For a brief instant, he could see the passage he was on with almost blinding clarity, but the instant the light was gone there was a horrific sound from overhead like the sky had cracked.

"Wonder who pissed off Zeus this time..." Russell muttered as he turned the page and kept on reading. 

(Who knows, maybe the unfettered energy the storm would somehow be so kind as to lend itself to him while he researched.)

There were footsteps out in the downpour, wet boots against wet pavement with a quickened pace. He paid the sound no mind; Fletcher was elsewhere tonight and would’ve called him if he needed picked up or gotten a ride from his friend and he himself wasn’t expecting visitors, so surely they would continue down the street without further incident.

Nope.

Russell glanced up, himself a shadow in the dim where the porch light didn’t reach, and watched a dark rain-drenched form hurry up the stone steps only to then knock nonthreateningly at his front door.

The poor bastard hadn’t even noticed him sitting there.

Apply Drachman accent. “...a ‘good evening’ would have been nice to hear first, солдат.”

Russell’s voice sounded from over to the left, low and with almost bored inflection, and was followed with the quiet sound of him taking another hit from his pipe, the warm glow illuminating the sharp shape of his eyes.

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ] #// three cheers for another thread named after mcr lyrics #// this time it's from the sharpest lives #// also no worries hsgdfcvhgc #// i didn't have any specifics in mind so this works out just fine <:} #{ tw: drugs } #// yes the pipe contains weed LOL

[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."

____________________

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.

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ] #// YES FINALLY SOME EMO FMA FAN SOLIDARITY #// there's a bert kreischer reference in this post bc the 'i'm the machine' bit was funny #// also russell said *extreme resistance to low temperatures c:<*

[plantmusic]

[ @justaradioguy​ ]

←

He hugs him, tightly.

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #// after reblogging from that i felt it'd be better to just create a new post slkdfhujsf #// theoooo i missed yoooou #// don't worry i'm working on our other thread from months ago i promise shdbfjbfjskbf

[plantmusic]

[ @justaradioguy​ ]

Fuery breathed a sigh of relief when the kid turned out not to be hostile.

People generally hated the military, and that included him, unfortunately. It was insanely lucky that he'd found a place to ride out the storm in, and later he might go thanking whatever higher power granted him the luck.

"Oh, really?" he asked, only to seem reluctant... even if he was desperate. "Thank you so much. I'll find a way to repay the favor if you'd like."

Maybe this situation wasn't as bad as it previously seemed. It'd give Fuery a much-needed break from the monotony of his life, and plus this kid didn't seem like awful company himself.

____________________

Russell supplied a nonchalant shrug. “Don’t worry about it. You’re just some guy and chances are I won’t see you after this. So.”

He took one final pull from his pipe, the cherry lighting up his lower face in shades of red; and as the smoke filtered out, he held the pipe just off the porch so the bowl caught some of the rain water that dripped down the awning. The embers spluttered and died. 

(No smoking in the house. Period.)

When he glanced back at Kain, he wore a look of utter indifference as he dumped the still smoldering remains from the bowl into the soaked grass. “Name?”

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ] #// telling russell ur name is like telling ur name to the fae fyi /j /j

[plantmusic]

[ @justaradioguy​ ]

Fuery looked up at him - good God he was tall - and tried to make out details.

Still, even in the light, he had to reach up and take his glasses off, wipe the lenses with the end of his inner shirt sleeve, and put them back on.

This person was very clearly quite young, probably around the Elrics' age if he had to guess. "Very young" did not mean "not a threat", though, as he'd learned from watching Edward.

"Um... yeah, it is. I was working late," he explained. "Then my car wouldn't start, so I walked instead, and then-"

Another thunderclap interrupted him. He didn't jump this time, though, thanks in part due to the porch being covered. Less likely to let him get struck down.

"Then that started. But I mean it, I don't want to bother anyone. This was just the only house that was lit up."

Why was he such a disaster?

Thank God his unit wasn't around - they'd have a fucking field day making fun of him being scared of a kid. And he wasn't even scared! Just... apprehensive.

He really needed to work on his confidence.

"I'll leave if you want, just say so. I'm sorry for interrupting your book."

____________________

Russell took a few small puffs from his pipe as he listened to the explanation laid out before him. Sure it was a perfectly reasonable one, and he did believe it, but forgive him for being weary around military personnel following his and Fletcher’s arrest years prior.

(And he sternly reminded himself that he was having a good night and to not think about things like that.)

Plus this guy seemed pretty tame compared to some of the inconceivable assholes he had come across before, regardless of affiliation, which was always a bonus for any guest he wasn’t familiar with.

“You’d be in luck then.” He cocked his hips, possibly as a subconscious gesture to make himself seem a little more open. “I was just about to go inside for the night.” Not a complete lie; he initially wanted to at least finish the chapter he was on first. 

#'' fresh from the fields all fetor and fertile '' [ ic ] #[ comms // justaradioguy ] #[ thread: it rains and it pours when you're out on your own ] #// (it took a hot second but here's a reply >:'}) #// kain it's ok u may be a disaster but we care u #// he's like a puppy #// a cold wet puppy