Alphonse didn't move an inch.

The rock thunked against his skull and left a scrape of red in its wake.

For awhile he just crouched atop the rock, spinning the stick in one hand and staring at her. At the same time he listened to the heavy breathing of the groon behind him -- it would only stay asleep for so long.

"What've you got to prove?" he asked her in a low voice. He'd noticed that whatever she'd been carrying was now leaking on the ground, but she wouldn't have dropped it if she hadn't been so jumpy. "Who're you going to impress? I'm the only person around, and you obviously don't care what [i]I[/i] think. Do you often go running at your own death just to prove you can?"

Now that he'd done his job, his demeanor had changed. He was a tired sort of angry, and not at all amused by the pain in his temple. Alphonse dropped the stick and left her, instead turning his attention to tying a rope around the groon's chest so that it could be dragged to the water.