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arg, this sorting thing What Roy has always hated about Kimbley is not the man's palms.
It is not his laughter, sharp and callous, nor the mindset that accompanies that laughter. It is not his smirk, or his voice, or his words. It is not the dead that he leaves in his wake, the number of which Roy knows because Kimbley tells him, adding to it with each day.
It is not, in fact, anything that Kimbley can be held responsible for. What Roy hates about the man is his eyes.
Roy cannot escape the sands of Ishbal in those eyes. They suffocate him.
It's not like changing after we descend will justify before.
