...I just got cursed, I'm on medical leave--although Winry says that my post on that got replaced by something about castles and robots--my magic's not working properly, every little thing plays on my nerves like a pianist and despite my book being under my bed, I'm pretty sure that whatever happened got impossibly perfect angles to spy on me at.

[He looks up, folding his hands; compared to the him of the future, he looks tired, his nails are bitten to stubs, and his hair's gotten messy.]