Lust wanted him to remember that she would be always the only thing he had to hold onto. That was how it had always been. And she would make sure it was would always be that way. It didn't have to be but Greed insisted on it all those years ago and now he couldn't change the rules. He made his bed and Lust was the one in it.

She had her own pouty hurt look on her face when he came back but whenever he was sad, it always drew out the mother in her. "Baby...." she softly whined at him, holding her hand out to him as if it wanted to pet him and make everything better. He did want to feel better, didn't he? Wasn't she the one who always provided that for him?

Lust was like a viper when provoked but she could be sweet and when she was it was like honey covered opium. It was difficult to resist and one taste got you addicted again for a long long time.