• Alfonse was not a brash man, nor was he a temperate man; he somehow fell in one of the in-between stages that most men fear to tread. The reason most men fear to tread this strange pathway is because, quite simply, it scares people. People are less likely to want to be in your company if they know you may punch their lights out at any given moment.

    Of course, there are always exceptions to this rule. Brashford isn't just the exception to the rule, he makes the exceptions to the rules. Which pisses Alfonse off even more, of course.

    Brashford sauntered up beside Alfonse with his hands resting on the back of his head, whistling a little tune the entire way. The tune happened to Ring Around the Rosy.

    As Brashford approached, Alfonse grew increasingly tense. Normally this would be an indication that any normal person should begin sprinting in the other direction, but we have already concluded that Brashford most certainly isn't normal. In fact, most would call him masochistic. "What" Alfonse ground out, "are you whistling?" The dishes the Alfonse had been working on washing sat idle as Alfonse clenched his fists tighter and tighter. It one didn't know any better, they would conclude that tiny specks of blood were welling up in his hands from his fingernails. This, however, is only for the people who didn't know any better.

    "I am whistling Ring Around the Rosy. Don't you like that song Alfonse? I like that song." Brashford sauntered up to Alfonse and threw his arm around his shoulder. "I know!" Brashford tugged Alfonse to the side in his exuberance. "Let's sing it together!" Brashford started twirling around, dragging Alfonse along with him. "Ring around the rosy, a pocket full of posy, ashes, ashes, we all fall down! Ring around-"

    Alfonse punched Brashford directly in the nose, escaping the Brashford's iron grip. "You idiot!" Alfonse kicked Brashford so that he was now holding his stomach while kneeling on the ground.

    Brashford held his nose closed with his right hand, and his stomach with his left hand. "What did you do that for?" Needless to say, Brashford's statement didn't come out so well, and it was severely muffled and distorted.

    Alfonse leaned down and put his ear close to Brashford's mouth. "What
    did you say? I couldn't hear you!"

    "I said, what did you do that for!?!" Brashford stood up and kicked Alfonse's knees so that he was now the one on the ground. However, Alfonse didn't stay in this position for very long. Somewhere, a long long time ago, he had acquired martial arts training of some sort. I could be Akito, or it could be Juijitsu; however, this detail was of no matter because what did matter was that Alfonse did a roll back into a standing position. And a very nice one too, if his technique is anything to go by.

    "What was that for?!?" Alfonse was sputtering.

    Brashford grinned. "That was what I said."

    Alfonse understood Brashford this time. "Well I'll be darned..." Alfonse sighed, instantly calming down. To any normal person, it would look like his personality had done a 180. However, for all intents and purposes, he was just showing different sides of his very chaotic personality.

    Alfonse stood with his shoulders back and his arm straight. His chin was high, and with his other arm he tapped his chin in a slow, rhythmic fashion. "I am not quite sure how to put this..."

    Brashford, still holding his nose, moved to a cross legged position. He was now looking up at Alfonse, and he looked at him like a student looks at his teacher. How that may be taken is anyone's guess. "Just say it."

    Alfonse stopped tapping his finger, and allowed the previously used arm to join the still one by his side." The song makes me uncomfortable." Alfonse's voice was curt and straight- if a voice can be straight, that is.

    "Why would a song make you uncomfortable?" Brashford's gaze was hard and determined, staring into Alfonse's eyes with an abandon that no one on earth could ever hope to match.

    Alfonse turned his head to the side. "Do you even know where that song originates from?"

    Brashford cocked his head to the side. "No. Obviously not. If I knew, I probably would have realized that it would piss you off, and therefore avoid singing it in your presence. I just know that it's fun to spin, and the dance thing that goes with it is fun."

    Alfonse looked Brashford in the eyes. "It is about the Black Plague."
    Brashford's eyebrows raised higher and higher as if moving in time with a cadence. "Ohhhhhh... That makes more sense." Brashford broke into a smile. "I won't sing it around you anymore. Sorry about that."

    Alfonse gave Brashford a tiny grin. "Don't worry about it, you obviously didn't know."

    Alfonse then went back to washing the dishes- though one can't be sure if he had even started washing them before the whole incident because his hands were dry. Brashford wandered off somewhere. We don't know, and we don't really want to know. It would be scary to learn what he did in his spare
    time.