entrancelogs | time to take a stroll

"In our case, yeah. Not everybody that gets into alchemy have parents that are alchemists. There's a lot of science. Multiple branches of it, and which branches depend on what you're specializing in. Although whatever you're doing, you do need chemistry, since understanding what the stuff you're working with is made of is kinda important."

Blake lifts his hands and shakes his head. "Chemistry? I'm out," he jokes. He'd been awful about school and he could have learned a lot more if he would have avoided avoiding school. Unfortunately, he found it droll and boring and no amount of challenge and just didn't pay attention.

"You two're damn smart. Really glad you're on our side, Ed," he added, too fond for his own good.

"Yeah, just as well. With the shit I know, I could be terrifying if I took a different path," Ed says wryly, finally remembering the beer he was holding and taking a sip. "A lot of the stuff I've learned is knowledge that's best not to let fall into the wrong hands."

"Or the wrong jaws," he reminds, following Ed's example and pulling healthily from his own bottle. The Jabberwocky's never ever far from his mind.

"How old're you again?"

"My nineteenth birthday rolled around back in January. Although Wonderland's convinced I'm still eighteen." Ed had been trying to ignore that thing, thank you. He's not sure if it'd even be able to figure out how to use alchemy, assuming it was even capable of using it if it figures it out. If it can, they were all boned.

Blake smirks, somewhat pleased with being perpetually twenty-nine, even if he expects that he actually feels about a hundred years old these days. Downing what's left of the beer in one fell swoop, he makes an appreciative ahhhh noise and then cradles the bottle between his hands.

"One day you'll prob'ly wish you coulda stayed eighteen forever," he muses, bumping arms with Ed. "But for now, I got no problem callin' you nineteen. And seein' as how my home's not yours, gonna spare you a lecture 'bout underage drinkin'." He pauses and laughs. "But only as long as you recognize I'm jokin'. Once you start takin' me seriously, then we'll have trouble," he finished, pushing up to stand, clearly fond of the young man as-is.

Ed snorts. "Drinking age back home is eighteen. Same for Germany. I'm covered in both worlds so long as I stay out of the States. For the record, I find the drinking and smoking age there stupid. People are old enough to join the military, get married, have sex, get jobs, and all that other crap at eighteen, but not to drink or smoke?"

Not that he has any intention of taking up smoking as a habit. The drinking was quite enough.

Blake's done enough smoking and drinking in his time to know that even in the States, it's crap to put hard limits on soft laws. At sixteen, he was smoking and pouring alcohol down his throat like it was going out of style, figuring if the rest of the world didn't care that he was homeless at sixteen, then they didn't have a right to care that he was high and drunk at sixteen. It's probably why he doesn't bother lecturing anymore.

"It's crap, I agree. And even if I didn't, not a cop anymore, and not a cop here," he says, figuring Ed gets his drift.

Lingering, he gestures over his shoulder. "Now, I've got a mighty need for another hot dog. Any interest, or is this where we part ways for a bit?"

"Oh good. I still get to avoid people giving me shit for drinking. Aside from Ellen at first, because I had a little trouble getting her to believe that actually yes, I am old enough to drink."

Ed takes a moment to figure out if he was hungry. "I could use something to actually eat, yeah. Did I mention that I need more food than the average guy my size, thanks to the automail?"

Certainly, that's a surprising realization, but probably one that makes sense to Blake. If Ed weighs more thanks to the automail, he'll have to burn more calories to keep as active as a person might on the same level at a normal, non-additive weight. He nods and grins. "Plus, you're a growin' boy, right?" Or something like that, at least.

Blake gestures for Ed to come along, not intending to be a waiter in this situation. Maybe it'll encourage Elric to interact with a few more people, too.

"Never eaten as well as I've eaten here. Surprised I haven't put on a ton of weight," John admits, patting his abdomen.

It's not just the weight. It's also the converters in the ports turning glucose into something his limbs could actually use.

He makes a face at Blake. "If aging wasn't on pause thanks to Wonderland, you mean. Found out during the thing with the angel statues awhile back that I'm supposed to get a few more inches."

He finishes up the last mouthful or two of his beer and sets the bottle aside before levering himself up. "Guess I'll have to hope the underagers don't get into this while I'm gone." He's not going to use alchemy to keep the cooler shut. Too much work and makes things a bit difficult for those actually old enough for a drink.

John grins. He can't imagine how he could be any fonder of Edward Elric, to be perfectly honest. There's something very real about him and his brother (and Greed, too, yes), something that John respects a lot more than he ever really bothers to express, not because he doesn't feel it, but because he's just not the type to speak up.

Pushing a hand into his pocket, he gestures with the bottle as they step away from the cooler. "Don't worry, I'll police 'round later, make sure the kiddies aren't breakin' imaginary laws an' makin' themselves sick." Knowing Wonderland, most of those underagers are probably heavier drinkers thank Blake's ever been.

Approaching the food, he makes for the hot dogs, plucking up a bun in almost the same motion he's tossing away his empty bottle.

"I just don't wanna be yelled at for being the one who's beer had been gotten into by the wrong people," Ed says, going for a couple of hamburger buns. Then he gets hamburgers for them and moves over to where the condiments were set out.

"I wonder when another movie night will be. I've been to one. Mostly because Greed dragged Al and I to it." And then, Elrics being Elrics, they had a crisis.

Blake follows up on the condiment lead and then takes a bite of the hot dog even before he has a chance to answer. Some thoughtful chewing happens and then he speaks up again after he's sated some of his hunger.

"You just gotta do it," he offers, but he's not expecting Elric to understand his reasoning right away. "Maybe have some kinda standin' engagement. Wheel a projector into the library, or turn one of the spare rooms into a theater. Know Crowley'd prob'ly show. I can come by, too, when I have the time." It never hurts to have structure or entertainment.

"So long as it's not the ballroom." Ed cringes at the thought of going in there again before taking a bite of one of his hamburgers once he's satisfied with the amount of stuff he put on it.

time to take a stroll

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