I don't own FMA O:
"Sulking again?"
Roy looked up to see who tapped him at the back. Sighing at the sight of him, he looked back down.
"This is a job, remember? You're a major for this," said Hughes.
"A job? Some fucking job this is, if that's what you call it," Roy replied, sliding his hood over himself. "How do you expect to not see me like this?"
"I know, I know. The hardest part comes when responsibility and burden combine. Now wipe that worn-out look off your face and let's go."
"Easier said than done," Roy replied. "A soldier's face always reflects the war front." His eyes scanned the tent's cloth roof. Sunlight seeped in from tiny bullet holes. It's like his gaze went past it.
"What does the sky look like?" he asked.
What but a sigh followed. "Well, what can I say? Ain't sunny, ain't rainy... Seein' no clouds up around either." Hughes paused.
"But you don't talk about no sky when you're inside the smoke."
"Heh," replied Roy. "Just wondering. I guess I haven't seen it in a while now."
"Well, at least that's what my sky looks like." Hughes laughed. "And how 'bout yours, major?"
"Trust me, it's not worth the question."
Roy stood himself up, gloving his hands with weapons. "I've figured. I'll never raise my head up for pride unless I've done a deed."
Hughes chuckled, leading the way out of the tent.
"That might have to wait."