Anti-Drug
Chartre
"Stealthy and hasty, Jean ran through the crowded hallway, cursing loudly as the other militants stopped to gawk at his unusual habit.
"Colonel Roy Mustang!" the man barged inside the said man's office, panting licentiously, obviously irate at some cause. A raven-haired man sitting casually behind the desk turned and stood up, uttering the blond man's surname. "Havoc,"
"Where the hell are my packs, Roy?" vague as he came, his counterpart blinked at what seemed clueless to him. "Packs?"
"My cigarettes!" he roared, "Where are my cigarettes?!"
Roy suspiciously ambled in front of his desk, and covered the filled ashtray purposely as he sat at the edge of the desk. "Oh."
Unlike his own subordinates, Jean knew the man more than anyone, which meant he knew about his absurd habit of burning things than just simply throwing them away. "You burned my cigarettes?!" just thinking of that moment made it seem impossible—burning cigarettes?
"Do you want to give me an early grave, lieutenant?" the colonel turned from cool to stricken, folding his arms in front of his chest and raised a brow. Like Jean, he knew his habits well: everyday the man would turn to his likely uniform pocket, take out a cigarette, and light it shortly. Not in a less-than-positive manner, but sorry to say that he had the heart of smoking two to three packets of cigarettes a day.
"No," he answered the earlier question. Jean was growing adamant. "But I can't live without them! You know how they serve as my anti-drug!" how ironic.
Roy sighed, taking the ashtray and dumping its random contents in the trash bin beside the desk. "As much as I don't want to get into a coffin this early, I don't want you going through the same phase, Havoc."
"Oh… wait—you don't?" of course, he was surprised. The colonel would rarely care about those kinds of matter, even if he were the superior. "And if I did have a death wish, I'd owe it to you—or just blame you for the cause of my death."
"You would?"
"And really, you wouldn't want that to happen for the both of us, lieutenant." He walked across the office, casually patting the man's shoulder. In seconds, the door closed behind the blond smoker, leaving him alone, doubtful, and dumbfounded.
Who knew there would be a brief chase scene out in the corridors after the colonel took the chance of running away from the infuriated lieutenant.