From Riza's POV...
To say that the Colonel was in a bad mood would have been a statement of the obvious to everyone at Eastl. Though he hadn't said anything, it was clear that the unrelenting rain storm that had been drenching the town for the majority of the morning was the cause of his annoyance. That, I'll admit, along with the fact that I may have reminded him that it was useless for him to go out with some of the others (there had been no major breaks that day anyway), and that he might as well catch up on some of his paper work.
That statement earned me a momentary glare, which I returned, but I was only able to because I had prepared for this already. But then he gave in, slumping dejectedly into his chair with one last wishful glance out the window.
Inwardly sighing with relief, I took my place near him. It isn't that I prefer him this way, at his desk, writing up reports, irritable and miserable. In face, I much prefer the Colonel as prefers to be, as he is out on the field powerful, in control… But on a rainy day like this, it's better to be safe. The Colonel's judgment isn't always the best in combat situations, evidenced by his forgetting his vulnerability in the rain when we faced Scar head-on for the first time. I prefer to see him in control, but I'll sacrifice that image to make sure that he was safe.
The rain hits the window counting the moments that pass while nothing gets done. The Colonel glances back at me and I know he caught me staring at him. As if he needed that to inflate his already oversized ego.
"How are the reports coming, Colonel?" I ask to cover up my own feelings of guilt. I don't know why I feel guilty, I was…just watching to make sure that he was working.
"Excellent," he replies sarcastically, and I can tell he's smirking though I can't completely see his face. "You know, First Lieutenant," he adds, turning toward in his chair before propping his head up on his arm in his usual way, "when I'm Fuhrer-" I immediately steel myself for the rest of the statement determined not to let it get to me, though, most certainly, that is his goal. "There won't be any paper work or reports."
Again I am relieved. He didn't bring up the mini-skirt thing again. Which was fortunate for him, because my gun is too close for his safety. He turns back to his work, and I think that it's over, at least for now. But I was wrong.
"There are much more…pleasant things to do, wouldn't you say, First Lieutenant?" I can feel my face flush his hand slides up and down mine. I open my mouth to protest, but my voice seems, most tragically to have left me. And by the time I make this discovery, it's too late. The Colonel has already has me up against the door, his lips pressed against mine. In spite of myself, I don't try to stop it right away. Finally, he breaks away.
"Roy!" I warn in a breathless voice, for once breaking protocol, but he doesn't listen. He never listens to me. I free one of my hands and it follows down his side finally reaching the pocket of his uniform. After what seems like forever but I know was only a short time, I shove him away, not very violently, but with a definite firmness. "Colonel," I say, "your paperwork." The look on his face was priceless, disbelief mixed with horror and loss. Because I have his precious gloves, dangling in my hand in front of his face. He knows what I can and will do to them, if I need to.
Maybe I can get him to listen.
It's an absolutely perfect day for paper work.