Winry knew that, if nothing else, she needed to get his requests for automail or she wouldn’t be able to proceed. She refocused and tried again, keeping her voice light.
“For now, can you start with telling me about the kind of automail you’re looking for? For example, do you want something light or something flexible? I’ll make a draft based on your requests and then we’ll look over it together and keep working on it until we have a leg that you’re happy with.”
She was met with continued silence.
“Do you have any requests?” Winry pressed.
After being urged to respond several times, Darish finally answered. “I don’t.”
“All right, then, let me start with what I recommend. I’ll bring over some materials,” Winry replied.
Darish seemed like he had been in Rush Valley for a while, so Winry had assumed that he had seen plenty of automail and already had some ideas in mind. Apparently he hadn’t. When the client didn’t have any requests, mechanics often offered suggestions based on the client’s body and needs.
But before Winry could rise to find something she could show as an example, Darish stood up.
“I’m leaving,” he said as he snatched the crutch from where it leaned against the wall and shoved it under his arm.
“What? You’re leaving? Why?” Winry froze in shock, still in the process of standing up, but Darish used his crutch to swiftly make his way out of the shop. “Hey, please wait!”
Winry chased after Darish and slid in front of him to partially block his path.
“We haven’t even begun talking about the automail. If you leave now, I won’t be able to start drafting a design.”
There was no point going to an automail shop and not talking about automail. But Darish became even more recalcitrant. His lips barely moved as he forced out a murmur, saying, “Who cares about automail …”
“Huh?”
Winry didn’t have the chance to ask what he meant. Darish thrust his crutch forward, shoving Winry to the side, and proceeded to leave for real. Winry could tell from the way he moved that even if she chased him, he wouldn’t stop for her.
Dumbfounded, she watched him go. All she could do was call after him with “Please come by again tomorrow!” To herself, she muttered, “I wonder what I did wrong? What a confusing kid.”
Bewildered, Winry turned back to the studio. Darish’s behavior had been completely unpredictable to her—he had been quiet one moment but was storming off in the next. Winry couldn’t help wondering if all boys his age were the same way. That wasn’t to say she was an adult, either—Winry herself was only fifteen, after all.
Winry’s childhood friend Edward was incredibly expressive with his emotions and was always straightforward. She tried to remember what he had been like at Darish’s age. When he was twelve, Edward had begun to carry heavy burdens. He had lost his arm and leg and had become a state alchemist. However, as far as she could recall, Edward had been as straightforward at twelve years old as he was now.
work that day didn’t end until seven in the evening.
“Take care,” waved the last customer.
“Sure thing! I’ll see you again next week.” Winry waved as the customer walked down the darkening streets. Then she began her usual closing routine. She carefully cleaned and oiled all the tools that had been dirtied by the day’s work, then brought a crate of materials inside before pulling down the shutters.
Whenever she still had work that needed to be completed before the next day, she would work overtime with Garfiel, but she was free on this particular day.
After she finished putting away everything in the studio, Winry opened the toolbox she had brought with her from Resembool. It contained a wrench, a screwdriver, a hammer, and a ruler—all tools that she had used since she was small. Winry used a piece of cloth to carefully polish them.
Ever since arriving in Rush Valley and gaining access to the most convenient and easy-to-use tools on the market, she didn’t have as many opportunities to use the things she had grown up with. Regardless, the tools embodied many memories for her and taking care of them was an essential part of bringing her day to a close.
“There, all clean!” Winry brandished the polished instruments, bringing them toward the lamp. After taking a few moments to admire the way they gleamed in the light, she placed them back in her toolbox.
“And now, we’re finally done!”
After giving the furnace a final check to make sure the fire was out, she turned off the lamp.
The door at the back of the studio opened up to the stairs leading to the second floor, as well as the ground floor kitchen. Behind the sink was a small room—that was where Winry found Garfiel and two men sitting at a round table covered by a white lace cloth, drinking tea.
“Mr. Garfiel, I finished up in the studio!” Winry reported.
“Thanks for your hard work!” Garfiel replied. He had been elegantly enjoying his tea, his pinky pointing out as he held his teacup, but at Winry’s announcement that their workday had officially come to an end, he placed the cup back on its saucer and gave her a smile.
The teacup was decorated with beautiful roses, and a matching teapot rested on the table, which was surrounded by matching metal chairs, the backs and armrests of which were shaped into delicate swirling curves. The entire setup seemed a bit feminine for three men at teatime, but it fit right in with the Atelier Garfiel aesthetic.
“Hey, Winry. Care for a cup?” inquired a young man in a friendly tone as he turned in his chair to drape his arm over the back. His name was Henrik, and he was the second youngest mechanic after Winry among their work acquaintances.
“Good work today,” the other man said. He was bearded and around Garfiel’s age, or slightly older. His name was Weis, and both he and Henrik were fellow mechanics running automail shops in Rush Valley.
“Good evening, Mr. Henrik and Mr. Weis!” Winry greeted the two familiar faces with a smile before plopping into the chair that Weis had pulled out for her.
“Here, for your hard work.” Henrik handed her a cup of tea he’d poured from the pot, validating Winry with a reward for her efforts.