It was a cold afternoon in Mustang's office. He just finished a thick stack of useless paperwork about budgeting, salary increase, weaponry, and silly cases about pets going missing and bicycles stolen.. The Colonel was just about to get ready for his hourly break, in which his Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, was not too pleased about.
The colonel stood up from his chair bobbing his head from side to side to ease his stiff neck. Normally he didn't easily get tired from just sitting around and signing papers but with all the worrying about a certain Psycho terrorist named Scar wandering about in central chopping of State alchemists heads, he couldn't help but get a little bit stressed.
A soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts followed by Falman carrying yet another pile of papers towards him, or rather a stack of papers filed in folders.
"Falman, don't you think I've got enough papers sitting on my desk for the day?" Mustang sighed.
"Actually, I was thinking the same thing. But it seems to me that these are really important, see?" Falman said, showing the angry red stamp on top of the folder printing the words: TOP PRIORITY.
Mustang took the folder, examining it in his hands. He could tell by instinct that whatever it was, it wasn't going to help his stress. He could almost already feel the all-nighters he'd have to pull off and gallons of coffee he will need radiating from it. And he did not like it.
"Plus it's from the Fuhrer himself." Falman added.
This caught the Colonel's attention.
"The Fuhrer? That's odd." And even more worrisome, he thought
"I wonder what it's about."
"We'll see." Mustang opened the folder and began to silently read its content. Although he only got to the header which is all he needed to know, when Fuhrer Bradley himself walked into the office.
"Fuhrer, sir." It took Mustang a second to register the fact that the Fuhrer was in his office, but quickly offered a salute along with the rest of his office staff.
"At ease, men. No need to be so formal, this isn't an inspection." The Fuhrer joked heartily, his hand waving them off to indicate that they lower their hands. "I'm glad you received my note."
"Yes, sir." Mustang nodded. "A recruit, sir?"
"A very important recruit." The Fuhrer nodded. "Also a bit special, an issue I think should be handled very delicately. I'm sure you've heard of the recent deaths on my State Alchemists."
Deaths on my State Alchemists. Mustang inwardly winced at these words. He nodded.
"I want this murderer down." he said, his eyes glinting with power. "And I have just the right person to do it."
The Fuhrer left a few hours later, like a bomb of secrets and more hours of work leaving the Colonel with a terrible headache in it's wake. He sighed and leaned into his armchair. Thoroughly appreciating it's softness.
"Colonel, it can't be too bad." Havoc said, in a sad attempt to comfort his boss. "I'm sure it'll be fine. The more the merrier, right?"
"Havoc, you have no idea." Mustang groaned, pressing two fingers between his brows to help relieve the headache that was already forming. "I can't deal with kids. Look at me and Fullmetal."
"She's not a kid, well technically I guess. But she's just barely a kid, she's 14. Just a year younger than Ed. Plus she's got her own guardian, right? It's not like you'll need to babysit her.."
"I cannot deal with kids." Mustang repeated, shaking his head.
"But you got to say, she's pretty impressive from what we've heard." Fury commented, eyeing the papers the Colonel still need to get over with, feeling a bit sorry for his commanding officer. "I mean, the Fuhrer scouted for her himself. That's saying something."
"Yeah, it's saying trouble and more paperwork to do."
"For you that is." Havoc teased, "If I we're you, I'd just enjoy the fact that we'd have an actual female in this office – OW!"
"You might want to be more careful with what you say, Jean. Some may think you're becoming a pedophile." Hawkeye warned, giving Havoc a stern look which screams: SAY-ANOTHER-WORD-AND-YOURE-DEAD.
A loud slam interrupted them, as they all sweat-dropped at the doors and walls that they would need to repair because of a certain someone's trashing.
"Edward, please refrain from-" Hawkeye chided opening the door from the Colonel's office, only to find a raging teenager complaining about milk and false leads.
"You bastard!" Edward cursed, forcing his way into the office completely ignoring the Lieutenant and her words. "First not having us picked up at the station when you said you would! Then you give us false leads, and what's worse is that you let us off to a village that only sells milk?! Do you know how many times I almost puked because of the smell?! I suffered-"
"Alright, Ed. That's enough, we we're a bit busy that's why we couldn't send you up a car. We thought you wouldn't wait." Hawkeye said. "And milk may actually get you taller."
"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SMALL, you shemale blonde?! I don''t need to rely on the substance of a cow to grow! – " He yelled, but came to a stop when Hawkeye fingered her pistol.
"Alright, alright. It's okay now! I forgive you! I won't say it again, I promise. Right, Al? Al?" Ed looked frantically from side to side in search of his little brother only to find that the door behind him ajar. " It's not what you thik! I didn't mean it, I swear! It just came out – GAH! Stop shooting! I beg – OKAY! I said I'm sorry – HEY! You almost hit me!"
And just like that the peace and quiet that Mustang desperately wished for met a dead end.
Mustang shifted in his seat, turning to the window behind him, oh how he'd love to be one of those clouds, just floating everywhere and not giving a care about crazy killers and unexpected afternoon meetings. He could just let the wind take him to wherever they want him to be, he could splash rain on anyone he felt like splashing rain on, or he could just monopolize the sun and damn all the people complaining about the weather.
Yes, he could be a cloud.
But alas, such wishful thinking is unhealthy. Because by the end of the day he'd still have to face Fullmetal's rant about milk and why he isn't given enough time to search for the stone, he'd still have to review all the papers sitting on his desk. And he'd still have to worry about the unfamiliar girl who's papers just came in today.