He remembered the way she looked at him during his last night at the Hawkeye house. The soft glow of the light under the door to her father's study was permanently extinguished. She shifted uneasily in lumpy green armchair closest to the parlor fireplace, the fabric of the plain black dress she wore to the cemetery spilled gently across her bare legs. The cup of tea perched on a nearby table had long since gone cold.
Roy knocked softly on the parlor door. Her expression lit up as he entered. She hadn't cried. How could she? How can anyone be expected to truly mourn the loss of a stranger?
"You're still here?" Riza exclaimed, "I thought your train left already."
"I rescheduled my ticket," he explained, "I didn't think leaving so soon after what happened would be right."
He quickly glanced towards the window as a small smile blossomed on Riza's lips.
"That's incredibly kind of you, Roy," she said.
Roy lowered himself into an equally lumpy blue armchair across from her. The room grew darker as the afternoon began to fade away. Riza shifted again in her seat.
"You know," she began, "I'm leaving tomorrow myself."
Roy frowned, "Why? You never spoke of it before."
Riza gestured around the dilapidated parlor.
"There's nothing here for me now. There hardly ever was," she explained, "It's time I decided for myself what I do and where I go. If you truly believe what you said earlier, I believe it too. There's people to help, and so many things to see. Staying here will only turn me into him. Just because he was my father doesn't mean I'm obligated to be like him. Leaving this place behind is the first step to make sure that doesn't happen."
Roy nodded and shifted his gaze the wall of dusty volumes of alchemic studies that lined the parlor's back wall. This life was never something she asked for.
"Where will you go?" he asked.
Riza raised her eyebrows, "I thought you would tell me it was a terrible idea?"
Roy grinned and shook his head, "In all honesty, it doesn't surprise me at all."
Riza laughed softly. It reminded him of birdsong.
"I'm going to Central."
Riza picked up a small scrap of paper on the small table near to the long-forgotten cup of tea and held it out.
"Here's my address," she said, "I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do, but write me, will you?"
Roy took the paper and quickly stuffed it into his pocket.
"Oh! Uh… Of course!" he mumbled.
A small blush spread across Riza's cheeks, "I look forward to it!"