Despite the time he’d spent working with Deidara, Sasori found it only reasonable to remain watchful; while Iwa’s absent artist was reliable, given a target and a time, his temper could be set off with similarities to his sculpture---in such a way that everything stopped in light and sound and smoke. Pride’s vanishing act was, by and large, ignored---having known and accepted it could happen, Sasori paid no unnecessary attention.

Instead, he was still focused on the automail, until Ed started. He straightened at that, and sighed. “As he said, his hand. There seems to be something in yours which doesn’t belong, if you’d hold it still so I can be certain…?”