Pride

"That women she's got eyes that shine
Like a pair of stolen polished dimes
She asked to dance I said it's fine
I'll see you in the morning time."

-I and Love and You, The Avett Brothers

The military was a parade of ignorant people, curtained by exquisite dances and parties and social event that made it look like it was accomplishing things. But these were just for fun, to make them feel like what they were doing was good. Roy scoffed at the overplay of extravagant things. King Bradley had gotten things like Xingese dancers and food imported from the reaches of Ishval. It was ridiculous. He almost felt ridiculous in a black tuxedo, his black hair slicked back with heavy gel. Havoc was dancing with his newest girlfriend, and his other subordinates were teasing him from the sidelines, each one of them acting out, pretending they weren't the wallflowers of the party.

Subconsciously he looked around for Riza, stopping every so often on a woman with the same hair color as hers. He thought he had spotted her with a group of other women, but with a harder look, he saw a backless dress. No, Riza would never wear something of the sort. He smirked; she also was not very chummy with the other women of the military. Except for Rebecca, Riza was not good at conversing with other women. Gossiping was never her forte. He looked once more, his eyes skimming the room for the only constant thing in his world.

She looked the best in red or midnight blue. Red had a way of popping both her eyes and hair, but blue made her skin shine. He pulled the silver object out of his pocket, dangling the pocket watch before him. Flicking it open he noted the time; he had been standing here for almost thirty minutes and Riza was not one to be late. He tapped on the glass of his clock wondering if the time could be wrong.

"I heard the womanizer can't catch himself a dance," Roy rolled his eyes, but the smile formed on his face anyways. Turning he gripped his best friend's arm.

"Shut up, Hughes." They both smiled and Hughes held a glass of champagne out to him. Roy lifted his hands, shaking his head. Hughes' eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

"Staying sober tonight?" Roy exhaled. The drink was appetizing, but he couldn't.

"It's an important night," this was Roy's first lie of the night. He couldn't tell his best friend that he was trying to stay sober for at least one night. Couldn't tell him that in the time he'd been gone, he had picked up a nasty problem. Roy wasn't an alcoholic, no, it wasn't that severe, but lately it was getting hard to deny a drink. Hughes nodded, thinking he understood, but he didn't. No one would understand. The two made idle chatter, Roy uncomfortable with going any further than skimming the surface; it had been too long that the two men had talked and a gap had formed. In fact, Roy thought, the gap had developed the day Hughes had gotten married. Maybe, he thought, it's because of this damnable pride. And Roy knew it was the truth. It was his hurt ego that wouldn't let him speak; his friend had found something better than him. But he shook it off, checking the time again. It had been an hour since the party had started, and still he hadn't seen Riza. Hughes saw his fidgeting and wandering eyes. He gave a small smile, knowing as well as Mustang that they're friendship was not what it had been.

"She's by the food table." Roy's head snapped back to his friend, embarrassed that his friend had read him so easily.

"Who? I'm not look for anyone." It was his second lie tonight, he counted. He was trying to play it off coolly. His exterior personality contradicting the person he was inside. Hughes laughed.

"Lieutenant Hawkeye. Who else would you be looking for?" He said before whipping out a piece of paper from his breast pocket.

"IF by any chance you weren't looking for her… Look at my darling Elysia!" He squealed with joy, and Roy knew this was his queue to go to her. He gave his friend a thankful smile before beginning his journey to the other side of the large ballroom. He found her, eying the food on the table, occasionally picking at the finger food by the drinks. She was wearing a silken midnight blue gown. The back cut at her armpits, the rest of her back was covered by an equally dark blue sheer that hid her tattoo, although a spot could be seen of the pink scar he had created. No one who was looking would notice. Only someone who knew it was there could pinpoint it. A group of women stood between him and his lieutenant each one batted an eyelash at him, trying to get his hand to dance. He gently declined, saying he was hungry, and the once charismatic women turned bitter and slightly disappointed. He sighed inwardly, picking up a broken rice cracker from the tray.

"Lieutenant, you really have a way with ma king friends with food." She nodded, obviously knowing he was staring at her for a while before he spoke. Turning away from the table, clearly satisfied with herself, she moved to his side. He relaxed into her presence, the feeling of her beside him made him feel less alone. His gloved hand knocked against the back of her own hand, and he waited for her to acknowledge his touch. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, following his gaze to the dance floor.

"Shall we?" He held out his hand for her and she hesitated. This wasn't professional. Roy knew this, but he wanted to feel her warmth, he wanted to hold her in his arms. And this was his best excuse. But she wouldn't deny him, he knew she wouldn't…He secretly hoped she wouldn't be able to resist. She took his hand and he held tight, keeping her dainty fingers between his until the previous dance had ended and the audience clapped. She was blushing, he saw it on her when he pulled her out to the pale wooden dance floor.

"I'm warning you, I don't know how to dance…" she stared into his bottomless eyes, wondering if he had remembered that, in actuality, she could dance fairly well. He smirked.

"I know you, remember?" She flushed an even deeper pink, looking at her feet before Roy hooked a finger under her chin.

"Confidence." And he knew she didn't need reminding. Her head would have automatically traveled up, keeping her neck elongated. Her jaw was pushed up with defiance, and it didn't matter when he caught her; she never slouched, it was like her body was automatically stiffened by years of hardship and pain, and Roy respected her for it. He respected her strength. It was the same strength that pushed him to be the best.

The music started and their feet moved automatically to the waltz. Roy however, had no straight lines in his arms and back. He held her close, deviating from the expected rigid lean he was supposed to assume. Riza let him take her waist, pulling her as close to him as humanly possible. All formality was lost between the two, and Roy though maybe it was because he had been with her for longer than he had been alive without her. Her head was almost against his shoulder as he twirled her around. He felt weightless with her, as if their coworkers did not surround them and they were the only people. The dance was over too quick, and Roy had difficulty letting go of the delicate woman, but he had to.

"I need some fresh air." Riza fidgeted, looking up at him, and Roy lied for the third time that night.

"Me too."