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a Luar in Fullmetal Alchemist
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“Public line.”

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“Anyway! She’s, um …” Rebecca takes a second to think of a plausible lie. “She’s an alchemist! You know how Mustang jumps on opportunities to enlist those.”

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“Of course. We’ll be over right away.” Click.

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Rebecca heads back inside the bar and sits down at the booth. "They should be here in about thirty minutes. Maybe forty five, if traffic is bad."

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The language seems to think thirty minutes is equivalent to a quarter of a bell. She's not sure how it knows that, but okay. She nods thoughtfully between bites of food.

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"So, you said you can't remember anything? Nothing at all?"

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"I... know some things. I can talk, I can understand what people say, I knew how to put on clothes, I know what forks and doorknobs are and how to use them. But I don't - there's just nothing there, before I woke up on the platform, it's like I wasn't... like I didn't exist. And even from the forks-and-doorknobs category there's things missing, like when I was surprised by the whistle at the train station, or how I didn't recognize your uniform..."

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"Do you remember anything about those books?" Gesture.

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"...they look... familiar. Nothing else looks familiar. But..."

She pulls one out of her pocket and opens it. The Book of Stars again.

It shows blank paper, blank blank blank for as many pages as she flips through, because that's what the Three Books do when someone who's not a Wildmage tries to read them.

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Blink. "Oooh, they're pretty. The paper looks really old-fashioned. Those would cost a lot of money in a stationary store."

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"I can't find any words on it anywhere," she says, flipping to the front and back and turning it over to show the spine. There's just that engraved star motif on the cover, nothing else. "I have no idea what I'd be doing with three blank books. Maybe they're some kind of family heirloom, if I have a family. Maybe I just carry them around because I like them and I haven't written anything in them because they're too pretty to use."

She closes the book and puts it back in her pocket.

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"Well, why don't you start! You could make a list of things you know you remember and things you don't, and I'll try to fill in the blanks."

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"I know... forks and doorknobs and clothes and streets and restaurants, and I don't know train stations or military uniforms or phone booths? Is that the kind of list you mean?"

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"Yep! Exactly!" Grin. "Wanna use the notebook or a napkin? I have a pen in my bag --" she starts fumbling with it.

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"Maybe a napkin. It doesn't seem like the kind of list I want to keep with me forever."

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Pen retrieved! Alcarian is handed it and a paper napkin. "You should also maybe think of a name or a list of names before Roy 'n Riza get here -- oh, but you might not know any names. Hmmm." She gets her own napkin, finds yet another pen from inside her case, and starts listing some.

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She glances over the list, looking for one that feels at least vaguely right.

"Anne," she says decisively, as soon as Rebecca writes it. It's almost like someone took her real name and cut off the last syllable and then dressed it up in the local alphabet. Definitely close enough to be going on with.

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"That was fast. D'you think that might have been your name? Before ..." she waves her hand vaguely.

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"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe it was just someone I knew. But you said to pick one, so I picked the first one that sounded sort of right."

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"Maybe it's 'cause it starts with the first letter of the alphabet," she teases. 

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She giggles.

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"Or maybe there was some other reason you didn't decide on Mildred. Or Norma. Or Phyllis. Maybe you just hate my taste in names." Her smile grows wider.

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"Maybe your taste in names is no good!" she teases back.

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"This is probably why I have so much trouble keeping boyfriends," she sighs dramatically. "I give them lists of my favorite baby names and they run off! You'd think at least one of them would like one of the names on my lists, but no."

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Giggle. "But you're so nice! They should give you a chance!"

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