Hi everyone! Welcome to Maybe Later, Sir!
I started this fic back in 2011, and I was not nearly as semi-decent at writing as I am now. A lot of these chapters make me cringe, but I don't have enough time to go through and edit all fifty-something at the moment. As such, please don't lose heart if you decide to tackle these and find yourself extremely disheartened at characterization/plot/sense/grammar. Just skip to chapter 30 and read 3-29 at your own risk. I'll (hopefully) get to editing this summer, and some chapters will be burned because oh my god what was I thinking when I wrote these
They follow no cohesive plot, timeline, or canon, so these drabbles present different scenarios of similar events. I will say something in one chapter and directly contradict myself in the next. I'm not put together enough to do anything else.
Good luck, and enjoy!
"Ah, you must be the new apprentice. Come in, come in."
Roy stared at the man at the door, mouth hung open in a circle that perfectly matched the size of his eyes. This was Berthold Hawkeye. He had heard all sorts of stories about this thin, stooped over man standing in the doorframe in his slippers and a dressing gown. Hawkeye was a legend in Central - the Rouge Alchemist, they called him in awed whispers, never too loud for fear of the legends being true and the man swooping in at the mention of his name. The reality was a disappointment to say the least. The man looked like he had never fought a day in his life, and by the sound of his hacking cough, he wasn't likely to start now.
Master Hawkeye turned inside, leaving the door open but not waiting for Roy's reply. The interior of the house was worn, but neat, and Roy marvelled at how the old oak staircase didn't creak as he and his new Master ascended it. Berthold motioned towards a door on Roy's right. "Here's your room, apprentice. There's the study. The kitchen is downstairs. My daughter sleeps in the attic, but you won't care about that for a couple more years, and I doubt you'll stick around until then."
Hawkeye chuckled as Roy looked up at him, bewildered. He opened his mouth to ask the older man what exactly he meant but was cut off almost immediately by a blonde blur colliding into his chest and knocking him to the ground.
"And here she is. Roy, meet my daughter Riza. Riza, this is the new apprentice."
"Hello." Roy said, thrusting his hand towards the girl as he propped himself up to a sitting position. She scowled and ignored it, flicking her blond bangs out of her eyes and picking up the book she had dropped and going down the stairs in a huff.
"Don't mind her, apprentice. She's shy, and she doesn't take to apprentices well," his Master paused, tapping his chin thoughtfully and looking down at Roy out of the corner of his eye, "If you can break through her shell, I might just teach you the secret of flame alchemy."