Ishvalan Headquarter

1320 Hours

She stood there, in front of his desk, expression as stoic as usual.

Roy couldn't help but to stare at her in confusion.

"What's the occasion, Captain?" he laced his fingers and eyed the box that had been presented on his desk by the said captain. The box came in quite a size—obviously not a big one, but not so small either that one could easily slip it by accident. It was covered neatly in peach-coloured wrapping paper. No ribbons, no meaningless ornaments that hold no substantial importance other than making the said box supposedly looked prettier.

Simple and chic, nice and crisp.

Just like her.

(Oh, and how he hoped he could say that one out loud.)

"A present, Sir. Happy birthday." One may had wondered how could she managed to congratulate someone with such demeanor.

His jaw dropped slightly. "No, no, that's not what I meant."

Of course it wasn't. They had been knowing each other for at least fifteen years—sixteen? He wasn't really sure—but obviously it had been long. Won't it be weird if they didn't give each others birthday presents for once?

(He still remembered his apprentice days, when she used to bake him birthday cakes. The time he tried to be kind and return the gesture, they both ended up spending her birthday scrubbing the kitchen. And she still did, sometimes. He didn't. For obvious reason.)

Roy did not find it weird that she gave him a birthday gift. But usually, she did it in private, when nobody was around. And certainly not when four pairs of eyes could watch and judge them freely. Now that was weird.

It didn't take a long time for her to see the meaning behind his glare; he insisted on some accounts.

But the General had to know that he was not the only one who could ask for something from the other.

While fixing her eyes at those of her superior officer's, she said in a slightly demanding voice, "Open it, Sir." He opened his mouth to—"Now."

Fuery flinched. Displaying any hints of insubordination was very un-Hawkeye-like, after all. And, unlike him who was trying to get his focus back to whatever he was doing earlier, the other three soldiers didn't even bother to hide their curiousity.

(In Havoc's defense, Riza wasn't facing them—oh thank Lord—and the chief was too flustered to pay them any heed.)

Roy quirked a brow. "And why, Captain, should I grant that wish of yours?"

"So that I will forgive you for slacking off earlier. Those files are due by 1500 hours, Sir, and if you don't open the gift now, I will only wish you luck on completing them in less that two hours without us five." Which is technically impossible, he thought.

Okay, this time she wins.

Carefully, he unwrapped the box.

Three pairs of eyes watched him eagerly from their seat.

He slowly opened the lid.

Fuery's defense collapsed as he poked his head from behind Falman.

Having seen what the gift actually was, Mustang froze.

Hawkeye glared at him intensely. Her eyes said it out loud; Take. It. Now.

So he did as such—reluctantly grabbing her gift, bringing it into everyone's eyes.

A moment of silence.

Falman buried his face in his folded arms in attempt to contain his laughter.

Fuery went on tinkering the comm crankily—he was red to the ear, nevertheless.

Havoc—damn him—laughed his ass off, as expected. He shoved his supinated hand to Breda, who just scowled and fished a small amount of money from his pocket. He cursed under his breath when Havoc snatched it while throwing him a triumphant sneer.

As for Roy, he stared at what he was holding in disbelief.

A shaving blade

What. On. Earth.

Her voice was stern—it definitely left no room for arguments.

"You have to get rid of it, Sir. Now."

Ri was tired of the roystache and she had to do something before everything got worse lol.

A small drabble for the lovely riza-hawkqueen on tumblr, who asked for the Offer Me prompt. Perhaps this theme is overused already, even so I really hope you could enjoy it ;A; thank you for the ask!

And, thank you for reading :)