Not a threat. Ed had almost the compulsive need to laugh at that, because he lived in a world where priests, and presidents, and goddamn kids masqueraded under masks of righteousness but, hey, turned out to be threats.

"Right," Ed echoed. "You've got an affinity for metal, but you've never seen automail before? That's kind of hard to believe, buddy." Besides, there was something off about the way the guy had said it. He'd been around nutjobs who loved automail -- that town that Winry worked in had been full of them. They'd love her clean, effective word, had gone crazy when they'd seen his arm and leg. Not that he'd really liked having people that close -- but he was used to people being impressed by his limbs. This felt different, although he couldn't say exactly why.

"I've certainly found some sparring partners, many who have been ladies," Ed answered with a wry and ready grin. Though, he didn't think he'd sparred any cleaning ladies yet, to be fair. He glanced around, although his eyes barely flitted off the stranger for more than a second. "Where the hell are we?"