Fishblight Mire Shatter myself, I don't care

The muck released her, and Mustang went stumbling back, barely avoiding his own fall into the quagmire. As it was, he wobbled, wavered, then plopped into his haunches with a sharp, wheezy noise.

Hooowee, I don’t think I ever’ve done that before either! He replied, tail starting up a little wag from side to side, a goofball grin splitting his features.

’m Mustang, by the way, Mustang Flynn! My ma used’ta call me ‘Stang, but’cha don’t gotta if ya don’t wanna.