Roy Mustang gave a long sigh, and dropped the packet of papers in his hand to the desktop. He leveled his gaze to the other side of it, where Edward Elric had managed to work himself into a rather spectacular sulk. Arms crossed over his chest, he was working his jaw like it was a task just sitting there, glaring his alarming golden eyes at Roy as though the entire thing were his fault. The overall effect was only enhanced by the large black eye he was sporting. Unfortunate as that was, if Roy could work this conversation the right way, that black eye just might help him get Edward Elric right where he wanted him.
"Fullmetal," Mustang began. "What am I going to do with you?"
He didn't reply, just continued glaring. Roy supposed that he had asked Edward that so many times in his life that he'd come to assume it was rhetorical.
"He had the best credentials of any of them so far," Roy complained.
"He wasn't qualified," Ed clipped out.
"He was a good candidate," Roy countered.
"He was an idiot," Ed growled.
"He was alright," Roy insisted firmly. "And you know it."
Ed went back to working his jaw.
Roy sighed again. Flicking through the incident report to the page he wanted, he read aloud from where it lay on the desk.
"'At which point he glanced over the man's life's work and proceeded to laugh in his face.'"
"It was a chuckle, alright?" Edward said. "I didn't laugh in his face."
"And did you then… 'Toss the thesis in the general direction of the wastebasket and imply that the candidate was being deliberately dense?'" Roy asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.
"Not my fault he took it like that," Edward said defensively. "And I was aiming for the desk, it was just luck that it actually fell in the trash."
Roy let the packet drop closed and gave Ed a look.
"Come on," Ed growled. "You know as well as I do it was total crap. I mean, forget alchemic theory, the guy didn't even have the—elementary concepts, I don't know how he even managed to conduct the experiments at all!"
"That is a gross misuse of the word 'elementary,'" Mustang said flatly. "Without an outstanding understanding of alchemy he wouldn't have passed the State Alchemy Exam."
Ed gave a loud snort, making his antenna flutter.
"If all these bozos passed, you probably want to give that test a—"
"If you keep this up, it's going to get to the point where I can't help you anymore, Fullmetal," Mustang overrode him before he could finish.
There was silence, and Roy could see genuine emotion spark up beneath the front. Edward stood, suddenly, and slammed both hands on the desk, leaning over it into growl right in his face.
"Then what do you want me to do?" he demanded. "Let them twist everything that comes out of the lab into a way to kill people? Like they did to Marcoh? Like they did to Armstrong?"
Ed stopped.
"Like they did to me?" Roy finished for him, softly, and watched a familiar flick of guilt cross his expressive eyes as he leaned back, that bright-hot intensity shuttering a little. "I know, Ed," he assured quietly, persuasively. "I understand why you're doing what you're doing." All Roy had to do was look at him to see he was terrified of himself— of what he was capable of, and rightly so. Unfortunately, that was simply one of the more painful birthrights of genius.
"But," Roy continued more firmly, "I'm afraid this is not something that you can win by being a big enough pain in the ass. If you don't pick someone they'll just pick for you, and I don't think you'll appreciate their choice."
Ed gave a sigh, seeming to deflate, and flopped back down into the chair.
"The only thing being discussed here is your research for the state," Mustang reminded him. "They can't dictate what you do on your own time and money…unfortunately for them."
Of course, most State Alchemists, and especially those based in research, had their respective plates full just staying certified, much less did they have time to conduct private research of any significant scale-but Ed was not most State Alchemists. And if Roy got his way, Ed would be plenty busy, anyway.
He watched Edward absorb that for a second, then look back up at him, considering, probing; probably trying to decide if he could trust Roy in this. Roy needed him to trust him; he needed him to decide it was in his best interest to focus his energy toward avenues most easily applied to humanitarian efforts. That way, when the brass inevitably banished Roy from Central to work on the restoration of the East, he had a strong argument to take Fullmetal with him.
"Well then what am I supposed to do?" Ed asked finally.
"Pick the candidate you think is the most harmless and the most tolerable, and lay low until your ETS date," he answered simply. Ed didn't look too happy about that, but seemed to realize he had little other choice. He looked back up at Mustang.
"And what about the research topic?"
"Pick the one you think is most harmless and tolerable," the general repeated without missing a beat, then aimed a lopsided smile across the desk at the youngest State Alchemist in the history of the nation. "That…or you could take a stab at being deliberately dense."
Edward scoffed, face still thoughtful, but Roy knew it was as good as done. He resisted the urge to let a smirk spread over his face.
Checkmate, Fullmetal.
* * * *