The wind was bitterly cold, cutting across the cheeks of the Major who didn't bat an eyelid at it and was grateful to the tinted goggles he wore that allowed him to see against the bitter wind. He stood on the top of the steel fortress of Briggs, staring at the frigid and barren landscape of the snowy mountainside, almost as if he was looking for a lone Drachma soldier to appear in the virgin white, just for something else to distract him.
At the thought, he released his loosely clasped hands. His right gently brushed over the butt of his pistol, holstered snugly against his hip as it always was, but didn't unfasten the clasps that held it there.
Another frozen bite of wind stole over his face, making him grimace unhappily.
It was annoying when the only place he could escape even briefly was outside on the watch posts. He frowned. It made no sense why he was even attempting to 'escape'. He wasn't the one in a mood. He wasn't the one raging around Briggs. He wasn't the one who was terrifying even the Bears of Briggs.
That thought made him snort, and amused him briefly, though the amusement left as soon as the hard clatter of heavy military boots came across the toughened steel of his fortress.
Miles turned slowly, surveying the white clad soldier that hurried towards him. His exposed face was pink from both the chilling wind and the exertion of climbing the steep stairs. When he reached the Major, the soldier stopped and saluted sharply. The gesture was returned with a tired limb.
"What seems to be the problem?" His smooth voice was nearly torn away by the wind, but the soldier heard enough.
"You've been summoned by Major General Armstrong," the solider shouted a little. Miles groaned quietly; the noise thankfully hidden in a gust of icy wind.
"Understood, Private. Please, take my post and I will send some relief soon," the Ishvalan ordered, before he took off walking away from the man who snapped a second salute and happily took up the post of watch.
The Major headed for the heavy steel doors and made his way inside the slightly warmer halls of Briggs to make his way to the office of the Ice Queen.
The woman sat behind the desk with her elbows resting on the dark wood, hands clasped in front of her face and gently resting her mouth against them to regard the man before her.
Miles on his part had his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his gaze resting on the wall above her head and his face calmly composed.
"Where were you?" Olivier's voice was as cold as the wind he had just escaped.
Miles didn't answer immediately, choosing instead to frown just a little behind his goggles, thankful they hid his scarlet eyes. The Major General scowled, her eyes narrowing dangerously.
"Your superior officer just asked you a question, Major." Her voice was eerily calm and controlled; something that concerned the Major more than her yelling at him. Her temper was barely being kept in check at this rate.
"I was topside, General. I was on look out." He replied to the wall.
"Why? I know your schedule. You weren't meant to be topside. You rarely are." Her hands fell onto the desk, her body leaning forward a little. "Why were you there?"
Miles allowed his eyes to dip, surveying the woman almost secretly while his jaw tensed, unpleased.
"I have no answer for that question."
Whatever it was Olivier had expected as an answer, the brief look of surprise showed that wasn't it. "Miles, explain yourself." She scowled at the man.
"General I cannot." He was obstinate, refusing her.
Olivier scowled. "You are one word away from being kicked out to survive on the mountain until I forgive you." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, hand toying with the hilt of her ornamental sword that rested against her thigh.
The Major didn't move, a small tense in his jaw being the only thing to break his stony appearance.
Olivier stood up slowly, calmly. Her hand wrapped around the neck of her sword's sheath, taking it with her as she moved to his front.
"Pack your things. Get out of my fort. Do not attempt to come back." Her words were cold and harsh, eyes narrowed and lip curled in disgust. The Major however, made no move as she brushed past him.
"You will banish me for being outside?" His tone was incredulous.
"I will banish you for treachery in my fortress." Her footsteps stopped, and the gentle swish of her hair told him she's turned around. He however, did not.
"I am not a traitor. I am loyal to Briggs, as you know."
Olivier glanced down at his clenched fists, stepping to be half facing him with a scowl.
"Do I know? You have a terrible way of showing it."
The scrape of metal on metal told him she'd drawn her sword, and when he turned around he was greeted with the sight of the dangerous blade leveled at his chest directly over his heart.
"You have been noted as spending far too much time outside on the observation platform facing Drachma. That alone gives me reason to belief that you are searching for your next orders from some signal man." He made an attempt to interrupt, but her glare stopped him. "I now find you refusing orders from your commanding officer, and you are being incredibly difficult." The woman gave a humourless smirk. "Give me a reason not to run you through where you stand."
Miles stood there and heard her out, now scowling at this open slander.
"I am no spy," was all he said which made Olivier laugh, but he paid no heed and continued, "My time spent topside is to avoid you, not to receive special orders. My reasons for defying you were to hide the fact I was avoiding you, however you now hold a sword against me, meaning I may longer do so." The matter of fact way he spoke, he could have been commenting on the weather.
Olivier's hand tightened on the hilt of her sword, lowering it almost warily.
"And pray, tell me. What have I done to warrant this?"
"You kissed me, sir."
The woman wanted to hit him. His eyes were hidden by those tinted goggles, and his voice was the same husky tone it always was. It was impossible to read him. Hell, it'd be easier for her to ask the brick wall what that meant. She frowned at him, sheathing her sword and holding the scabbard with a look of bored annoyance.
"And?" She cocked an eyebrow, her face as blank as a stone.
"I thought it best to avoid you for the matter."
Olivier laughed. She laughed openly and loudly, finding that simple statement ridiculous beyond belief.
"You are afraid that a simple kiss would endanger the working environment? Please, grant me credit. I'm not that cretin in Central, Mustang." She snorted over his name, pulling a face as if it left a bad taste in her mouth.
"No sir, I ju-" He began only to be cut across by the sharp tongued General.
"You assumed, Major. Assumptions get you killed in Briggs." Her eyes narrowed, hand shifting to the hilt to hit him with her sheathed sword, hard. Unprepared for it, Miles jumped and then winced, rubbing his struck arm.
"You are an idiot. Get out of my office." The meeting was done with, and she swept past him to return to her desk, sword resting at her side and fingers claiming the pen to continue with the forms.
Miles turned to stare at her with a look of surprise and confusion.
"Ah, sir?"
"Are you deaf? Out of my office, Major. You are dismissed. Back to work, and don't be this stupid again or I am putting you out to the bears." Her eyes never rose up.
"Sir, I cannot just leave without an answer. The kiss...?" he Ishvalan sounded concerned and he had right to be. Was he to continue without knowing if it was a spur of the moment tactic to escape his grip, or did she hold some kind of feeling for him?
"Happened. Grow up Miles." She glanced up with a faint smile on her full lips. "I didn't realize you would react this way, I thought you were a Briggs man and not a hormonal teenage girl."
The berating tease made him bristle, and so he frowned, saluting stiffly.
"Aye sir, of course. Forgive me, and thank you," was all he said, before leaving the room faster than he entered it, relieved that she didn't skewer him as he had genuinely feared.
Olivier on the other hand, rested her chin on her hand with a crafty smirk on her lips.
"This could be interesting..." She muttered to herself, before continuing with the forms laid out before her.
