The line of his jaw tightened so much, he was sure the other man's teeth were going to splinter. But that didn't stop him from raising the tube to his lips once more, using a compressed stream of air to launch the sodden projectile at his friend.

It burst into flame before it could even reach him.

"Come on, Roy, you have to talk to me some time."

Mustang's mouth twitched like he was about to say something, before his teeth clicked tight together again.

Hughes gingerly touched the bruised and swollen flesh under his glasses. "I already said I was sorry. What—"

He never got to finish his sentence. Before he could get the words out, Mustang had him out of his chair and thrown into the wall, his hands tight on the front of Hughes's uniform, that fire that cowed so many other people burning brightly in his eyes. "You should have told me. You should have trusted me."

Hughes's customary smirk was gone, replaced by something more intelligent, more sincere. "You know why I couldn't. Things were getting hot enough for you. They were only going to get worse. If you had known my plan, known the truth, it would have only been one hundred times more dangerous for you."

"You should have told me," he insisted. Knowing his friend the way he did, Hughes could see that the fire in his eyes was slowly being quenched by a hint of tears.

Hughes raised one hand, gently loosening Mustang's grip on him. "I won't apologize. I did what I had to do. And it worked, didn't it? I pushed you all the way to the top… Fuhrer."

Finally, Mustang's face twisted in a wry smirk. He patted Hughes's cheek in what was closer to a slap before he took a step back. "At least now I know how good an actor that wife of yours is. Come on, we've got work to do."