Maybe Riza fascinated him because he was rarely around girls anywhere close to his age for a sustained period of time, girls who still had a bit of a childlike charm in their eyes. He'd gone to an all-boys school before becoming Master Hawkeye's apprentice, and was never around girls his own age without some sort of agenda (the agenda usually being a kiss, or more). So being around Riza, who always blushed when she noticed Roy looking out the window into the yard where her underwear was hanging on the clothesline, was almost as interesting as the alchemy he was learning.
She could be silent as a mouse, almost to the point where Roy swore a ghost was cleaning and cooking. If he didn't initiate conversation during meal times or when he had breaks, he wasn't sure she would speak to him at all, aside to ask what he wanted to eat or if she could do his laundry—not out of coldness, just out of shyness. Even when she was with friends from school, who he only saw from a distance when Riza was walking home, she was listening and not talking.
But then, she could be the girl who could kill a deer with a single shot and make it into a damn good meal out of it. Or the girl who would make a dry, sarcastic joke if Roy spoke to her enough, which would make Roy smile for hours after. It was a shame that her father practically squashed any hint of emotion she had, because Riza could be funny when she had the chance.
And she was pretty. Or getting there, though that sounded kind of terrible in Roy's head. When he first arrived, she was a scrawny barely-thirteen year old, who didn't seem to know how to carry herself—just as long as she was out of the way, it was all good. But now, she was sixteen and was a little more comfortable in her skin, which was remarkable considering all the changes her body had gone through in the past three years. Which Roy had been trying to ignore, especially when her father was around.
But still, Roy sometimes found himself watching her as they did dishes together, her washing and him drying, even though she always insisted that he was a guest and didn't have to help.
"Is there something on my cheek, Mr. Mustang?" Riza asked, stopping to wipe her cheek with the top of her forearm when she noticed Roy looking at her.
"No, it's fine." He went back to drying a cup, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest. "I was just looking out the window."
