"Good morning, sir," said the boy as he offered an eager hand, his coat draped over his other arm. "My name is Roy Mustang. My mother, Chris, sent me to meet with you."
So this was Mustang's boy, eh? He was a bit scrawny with a pale complexion, not quite what he was expecting. Obviously he spent a good deal more time indoors than out in the streets. That could be a good thing. Any future apprentice of his had better be used to pouring over calculations for hours and hours on end. The boy had sharp eyes and an unruly mop of dark hair that must be in fashion these days. Hawkeye himself had stopped following the outside world long ago, so he couldn't be sure.
Roy took his hand back when Hawkeye didn't shake it, nervously tucking it under his other arm and glancing about the room. He seemed fidgety, unsure. Hawkeye found this interesting.
Now Hawkeye, the kid's had a tough start in life, but don't let him fool you. I find he's often too charming for his own good.
Ah yes, Hawkeye knew what kinds of things went on in Mustang's establishment. This boy had grown up in the middle of all that. He would have to keep a close watch over Riza.
When he looked back up at him, Roy was gingerly fingering the edge of one of the bookcases with a gloved hand.
"I'll burn it."
"You'll burn what, sir?" The boy asked hesitantly. Was he really so dense?
"Any part of you that touches my daughter, that's what!"