Colonel Roy Mustang was drunk—intentionally, dismally drunk. He sat facing away from the door of his small office, set up in the temporary military headquarters is Ishval, slumped in his chair. A bottle of the best Xingese whisky money can buy was in his hand and he was downing it like it was water. He loosened his tie, suddenly feeling that it was just a bit too stuffy in here, even without his jacket on, which was unceremoniously thrown in the corner. With his free hand, he rubbed his eyes slowly, trying to stifle his oncoming headache. This was the scene that greeted Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye when she entered his office. She wiped the sweat from her brow. It was a hot day outside, but it felt that the seasons were about to change and the road to winter finally lay before them. Hawkeye sighed as she walked up to her superior, taking in the smell of whisky, mixed with the combination of gunpowder and cloves that Mustang always seemed to smell like. The last few weeks had proven to be hard work for him—for all of them—with the move to Ishval and the process of slowly helping the Ishvalan people resettled in their destroyed lands. She had thought that Roy was handling the pressure quite well. Apparently not, she thought.
She cleared her throat and spoke with the firm voice she used with him to mask her worry, "Sir, you called for me?"
He swung around in his chair, overswinging just a bit so that he had to correct himself. He had that look on his face; she had seen it many times before, like he was drinking to forget. Concerned, Hawkeye moved quickly towards him, "Sir, are you alri-"
She was stopped suddenly by his finger on her lips. Somehow through his drunken stupor, he had stood up, swaying slightly, and was quite close to her. His gloved finger remained on her lips and his eyes seemed to linger there for a moment before he let out a "Shhhh" noise. When he was satisfied that she would let him talk, he removed his finger slowly and continued. Riza saw that her lipstick, although light, had left a bit of a stain on his iridescently white gloves.
"Apparently Riza," he paused, smirking a bit, but with sadness in his eyes. "I am to be congratulated."
She was surprised to hear her first name. He had not used it since… Since the conversation, she thought. A bitter taste entered her mouth, but she ignored it.
Knowing it was the best way to get to the bottom of what was going on with him, she humoured him, "Congratulations, sir."
He gave her a look as though he were trying to gauge her expression and simultaneously see something a mile away. Hawkeye, feeling uncomfortable with both the situation and the closeness quickly followed up, "And what am I congratulating you on, Colonel?"
"Apparently..." He swayed drunkenly, taking a hefty swig out of the bottle in his hand, "I'm getting married in three weeks."
A/N: This is just a little preview I wanted to upload. More to come! Reviews welcome!