A knock on the door interrupted Dr. Emilia's solitude. She had been contemplating what to do about Mustang's strange behavior as of late. The boucquet of roses he'd sent her lay next to her fireplace. She wanted to burn that damn bundle of mockery.

The previous day, Fuhrer Grumman had informed her that he had been mulling whether to discharge Mustang's entire unit from the military on account of its lack of discipline. "Those idiots are setting a terrible example for other units to follow, with their non-stop pranks and general rowdiness," Grumman complained to her. "Do you know what he ordered them to call him? Colonel Mustard, ha! I may be forced to disband them for the sanity of the remaining troops."

"But sir, they're all war heroes, every single one of them. Surely a discharge is too drastic an action? Perhaps we might try a less direct approach to settling them down?"

"War heroes in peace time are insufferable. Mustang is no different." Grumman stroked his Mustache. "I'll make my decision soon."

There was another knock and Dr. Emilia turned her thoughts away from yesterday's conversation. "Yes? Do come in, the door is unlocked."

A pale young woman approached from the doorway. Her yellow hair was tied up into a neat bun. Dr. Emilia had always liked this woman's stern, severe eyes. An attractive quality, she noted to herself in secret.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company today?" Dr. Emilia asked the officer.

"Dr. Emilia , I came to apologize for our unit's neglect in addressing the issues of low morale and discipline." Hawkeye bowed slightly and stood by the doorway.

"Oh? You needn't speak on anybody's behalf. After all, you've simply followed your orders to perfection." Dr. Emilia offered Hawkeye an ironic smile.

Hawkeye's eyebrow twitched slightly. "Did I tempt her to bad-mouth the colonel? I'll have to try harder," Dr. Emilia thought with relish.

"Come, then. Sit. Unless you have other business to attend to?" The good doctor gestured to a cozy armchair.

Hawkeye hesitated, but she relented and sat down. "Is Colonel Mustang in danger of losing his position in the military?" Hawkeye asked Dr. Emilia.

"Oh? Now what makes you say that? He's a decorated veteran of two major conflicts, the hero of the state, the flame-"

"He had his head in his hands the entire morning today, ma'am. I would have asked why but he seemed to be on the verge of tears."

This put a smile on Dr. Emilia's face. "Does he ever confide in you, lieutenant? Whenever he comes here, he makes crude jokes and forces me to dance with him. It's all a great big farce to him, apparently."

Hawkeye smirked. "The Colonel has peculiar ways of expressing himself, I've found."

"Peculiar, eh? Yet Peculiarity is not a desirable trait in the eyes of the state military. If Mustang continues to be peculiar, as you say, he will be expelled from the military. You will find yourself assigned to another superior officer, one who is worthy of your qualities."

"The truth is, my job is to service the industrial machine that comprises the military- all the personnel are gears in a big machine, and each gear does its job. Sometimes a component in the machine undergoes severe stress and breaks. My job is to evaluate whether the break is severe enough to warrant a replacement."

"Given what we know of his service history, Colonel Mustang has had his share of trauma and stress, wouldn't you agree?" Dr. Emilia chewed on the tip of her eye glasses.

Hawkeye furrowed her brow. "The colonel is the same soldier he's always been. And I came here to ask that you give him one more chance to prove himself."

"Hmph. Well, to tell you the truth if this charade goes on further, Fuhrer Grumman will expell the entire unit: yourself included. Imagine hearing the muffled sounds of a subordinate officer chastising her superior officer on a daily basis coming from Mustang's office! And that same superior officer making a mockery of all the statutes of the military! The rumors are unseemly to say the least, lieutenant."

"I-" Hawkeye reddened.

"Can I ask you a personal question, lieutenant? Why did you join the military? You were a special case, were you not?"

"Most women in the military are generally accepted into service under exceptional circumstances. As for myself, I come from a military family."

"Well, go on..."

"I used to have a strong sense of purpose, but now I fear I've waivered."

"Because of Colonel Mustang?"

"Yes, strangely enough. He has lost his sense of purpose, and I fear I may not be doing much good by protecting him."

"Are you waiting for him? for the man he used to be?"

"No. He's lost his old ambition to become the Fuhrer entirely."

"But you're still by his side. What could you be waiting for?"

Hawkeye could not say. She bowed and thanked Dr. Emilia for her time. Dr. Emilia sighed and reclined back into her chair. "Maybe I should try my hand at seducing her, if Mustang won't," she thought to herself.

"Where'd you run off to, lieutenant?" Mustang yawned from behind his desk.

"An errand, merely." Hawkeye replied.

"Pfft. Did Dr. Emilia ask you to spy on me?" Mustang sat up straight and looked at her with exasperation.

Hawkeye paused to form an appropriate response. "Now that you mention it, colonel, you did forget to water the flowers today." She walked to the windowsill and poured some water on the plants. "Did you finish with all the paperwork?"

Mustang scratched his head. "Decisions, decisions. Old Fuhrer Grumman should sign all these papers, he could overrule any of my decisons anyway."

"But it falls under your jurisdiction unless the Fuhrer has a compelling reason to interfere," Hawkeye explained matter-of-factly as she checked the rose petals. "We've had this discussion many times."

"Ah, lieutenant, you're right as always. It just so happens that I did finish with the paperwork," Mustang propped his feet up on the desk. "There's nothing like a stack of zoning complaint letters to put you in the mood for womanizing."

He fingered the slip of paper Grumman had given him. A telephone number was written on it with a name: "Anne".

"Do you know anybody by the name of Anne in active service, Hawkeye?"

"No, sir. Would you like me to make an inquiry?"

Mustang laughed. "You're one in a million, I hope you know that, lieutenant. No thank you, I'll make the date myself."

He dialed the number and chatted for a few minutes with a high-pitched voice about opera. A few moments later, Mustang put on his coat and fedora. He lingered by the doorway before leaving.

"Ah, lieutenant, do you have a moment?"

"Yes, colonel?"

"Will you be free tonight?"

"I'll be on call as usual."

"Come with me to see the opera."

"Sir? I'm not able."

Mustang scratched his head and smiled sheepishly. "Please, as a favor? I need a ride back in case the date blows up in my face. Call it an emergency and you're all set to go!"