Not really any royai in this one promise there will be more in the next one

DISCLAIMER! I DO NOT OWN FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST!

Day off.


Roy sat head in his hands, he was back at the main base, waiting for reassignment. currently he was off duty and sitting at a bar in the village right outside of base on the amestrian border. since he had three days until his new assignment he planned on getting drunk beyond function. he waved the bartender over and asked for a whiskey, the bartender was young probably too young to be working at a bar but somebody had to work there and anyone older probably had been conscripted into the army. the bartender brought him his drink and watched him as he gulped it down, Roy motioned for the bartender to give him another,

"is it really that bad out there?" he asked.

Roy nodded and took a sip of whiskey.

"My brother is out there somewhere... we haven't heard anything from him in ages.. we don't know why he stopped writing..we don't know if he is okay or not.. the only thing thats giving us hope is that we haven't gotten any telegrams saying he's dead or something.."

Roy looked up from his drink and tried to smile at the bartender "I'm sure your brother is fine..He probably didn't have anything good to write to you and your family so he just dosn't write at all.. he probably just wants to protect you from the horrors that are out there..."

the young bartender sighed "So it really is that bad.. we see soldiers like you all the time.. its your eyes.. i wish he would write.. he dosn't have to protect us.. we see what its like what is there to protect us from? il be going out there anyway if the war isn't over before my birthday.."

Roy sighed "It gets worse... alot worse.. this is like paradise compared to the front lines.. can i get another whiskey?"

The bartender nodded and poured Roy another whiskey, Roy gulped it down starting to feel a little drunk, "hey can i get another ain't feeling as good as id like to yet" the bartender nodded and poured him another silently.

"Hey mister, do you have family to write to?" he asked

Roy shrugged. "I guess.. i mean i have my foster family back home in central waiting for me.. stopped writing when there was nothing else to write except the death count.. like i said its really bad out there.." Roy answered with a shudder and took a big gulp of whiskey.

"Write to them please? they are probably worried sick about you like i am about my brother and to hear anything from you even just that you are alive and unhurt will be wonderful.. and if you see my brother please tell him to write and that we miss him and love him no matter what? "

Roy nodded "sure.. i'l try to write to them.. and don't worry if i see your brother i will pass the message along, that good enough for you?"

The bartender nodded as Roy emptied his glass, and as a group of four young soldiers walked into the bar and sat down at a table.

"Hey barkeep! can we get beers?" one of the soldiers asked, he had the snipers patch and the rank of private Roy noticed, he had dirty blond hair and a cigarette behind one ear. Roy studied the rest of the group, they were all young no one above the rank of corporal, there was another sniper, and two regular soldiers. the sniper a girl with blond hair and dark brown/red eyes, Roy couldn't help staring at her she was really pretty his drunken brain said, the other two were men, one was tall lanky with close cropped mousy brown hair, the other a brawlic man with dark brown hair. then of course there was the dirty blond haired smoker, who had ordered the drinks. Roy's eyes found the girl again she was really attractive he thought.. and he thought he knew her from somewhere.. but couldn't place it, he smiled over at her but she was too busy talking with her comrades to notice him, though her fellow sniper noticed and glared over at Roy. Roy sighed snipers treated each other like family and no doubt this guy looked at her like a sister and would not take kindly to a drunk soldier trying to take her to bed. Roy looked away from the group and focused on his drink.
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