Fuery had spent a large chunk of his career since things calmed down trying to lessen the bulk of the field radios they carried around. He had a very small frame of time to finish conducting his currents tests on the latest product in order for it to be used during the inauguration. Which was why he was currently holed up in an office empty aside from scattered communications equipment.
"Falman, do you copy?" squawked from Fuery into his ear. Falman sighed at the younger officer's impatience.
"Copy, but I'm not at the test point yet. Getting around is a bit difficult with the current traffic in the main building," he explained, before sighing. "I'll radio when I get there," he added.
"Yes, it is quite crowded, isn't it? One would hope Mustang's subordinates could keep it under control. Wouldn't you think, Major Falman?"
Falman froze in place. He would recognize that voice anywhere. He had to keep himself from stuttering as he snapped to salute and addressed her. "Yes, General Armstrong, Sir."
Olivier held back a chuckle as she returned the salute. "I see you're at least improving communications for the event. Don't let me interrupt your test. I just wanted to get in contact with some of the men here from Briggs," she informed him.
His eyes lit up. The sea was parting around the retired General, and they were going in the same direction. This might make things a lot easier. "I can show you where the office is they've been set up in for the time," he offered, pointing to the hallway he was attempting to get to.
He followed close behind as she led the way. It was amazing how people got out of her way even faster than they got out of Hawkeye's way when she walked the hallways, though he wondered if that had changed since they'd last met. He knew, for fact, that Hawkeye took no pleasure in the parting sea of people-not in the way the General did. The younger blonde had never liked any semblance of a spotlight, even when it afforded her significant perks.
"Fuery, do you copy?" Falman asked, wondering if the device would connect while he and Armstrong were en route clearly. The briefcase and headset were much easier to manage than usual telecommunications, and though it wasn't perfect it was improvement enough.
"Yes sir, loud and clear!" Fuery's voice replied. He was obviously excited, and his voice came through clearly in Falman's ear, very little distortion audible. The decrease in size was worth the decrease in quality, particularly since the decrease in quality was so minimal. "Did you get to the checkpoint? Colonel Hawkeye needs the distance to work from the highest indoor point as well as the outdoor points we've already tested before she'll give the okay to use it."
"Almost there," Falman replied. "I ran into General Armstrong. She is currently helping me part the crowd and get through the building."
"You must have that technophile of yours on the radio, if you're testing new equipment and Hawkeye is going to let you use it today," Olivier mused out loud as they neared the office in question. "Fuery, his name was?"
"Yes sir," Falman replied quickly, "Captain Fuery now. He's mostly got the kinks worked out, and the radio works very well, but Colonel Hawkeye just wanted to be sure. She's not used it herself, and—"
"She's got to trust her lame alchemist to it, of course. Old habits do die hard." Armstrong sighed, shaking her head. "Speaks quite a bit to her trust in you lot that she'd even consider it. I heard some MP complaining that she's been drilling them on the security plan for over a month now."
"You better tell her that this radio is working better than almost any communication device in telecomm history, Major!"
Falman had almost forgotten that the biggest change in the radio had been the constant transmission of data; instead of needing to turn on and off the radio transmission, one simply had to turn on the switch and talk-the frequency stayed open until it was turned off. "Ah—right. Sure thing, Fuery."
"If he's whining that his radio is the best one we've had, tell him that he should've been in Central a week ago to test it and he wouldn't have to do it in such a big crowd," Armstrong quipped. By then, they'd reached the office in question. Falman set the radio down and disconnected the headset, allowing the radio to do all of the transmitting. Instead of directly addressing the Captain, Armstrong continued to relay her message to Falman, as if she didn't realize there had been a change in the technology. Let it not be said she couldn't play along; if the slightest hint of a smirk crossed her lips, it was just coincidence. "And then ask him if he's betting on whether or not his two superiors are going to actually get engaged—along with nearly everyone else coming to the Inauguration that's known them for more than a year or so. The pot's grown quite big now, about two thousand cenz for the winner."
Olivier smirked at the redness that crept up Falman's neck and cheeks. "Don't look like that. I've heard that you participated as much as everyone else. What was your most recent bet...I think a certain chain-smoker told me it was when the Führer-elect made it to General. Am I correct?"
There was crackling, but along with the nervous buzzing, Falman couldn't hear it. "General…"
"Well, don't be a coward. Ask the Captain what his wager is going to be—"
"And what exactly are we betting on, General Armstrong?"
A distinctly feminine voice could be heard, and Falman jumped. When he'd last seen Fuery, the man had been alone in a very crowded office, deliberately attempting to scramble the radio signal in an attempt to prove its efficacy. The door to said office slammed shut. "C-Colonel Hawkeye—"
"We are wagering on whether or not we're going to convince you to stop running about like a chicken sans head, Colonel Hawkeye," Armstrong replied calmly, crossing her arms with a slow sigh. Falman glanced at the blonde, and then to the radio, brows furrowed. "I hear you are running security today."
"That is correct, ma'am. I have been General Mustang's adjutant and bodyguard for over a decade. One would expect that I would continue in such a position, especially on a day such as today." Olivier could see the sniper's face as she spoke: hair clipped back severely, in her dress uniform and a pair of heels, and still running around with a rifle over her shoulder—and wearing an expression that was at least ten kinds of furious that Olivier would question her intentions.
"I think there's somewhere else you should be, and it's not in the west tower with your rifle. Unless you think there's someone else you'd let stand up with him and take a bullet in his stead, should it become necessary. You trust someone else to do the right thing, react in time?"
The reaction was palpable, despite it being over the radio. It was quiet for a moment, before Fuery piped in quietly. "Um, Colonel? Lieutenant Colonel Havoc offered before if you wanted one of the team to take the west tower in your stead that he would be happy to. And even Miss Catalina mentioned that she'd do it too and even pretend to not hate his guts at dinner last night. I know you couldn't make it, because you were stuck here, but-"
"I need to update the security team. Captain Fuery, the radio is excellent. Please notify the appropriate parties that this is the device we will be using," Hawkeye's dismissal was brisk, and her heels clicked loudly in the office as she exited. At least she didn't slam the door this time—and Olivier had been right, she thought with a wry smile.
No female officer wore their dress uniform—skirt, heels and all—if they could help it. Certainly not field officers like herself and Hawkeye. Someone else must have been spending quite some time working on convincing the Colonel to find a different sniper to put in that tower, and Olivier had a feeling it was a certain dark-haired alchemist who was currently pinning medals to his dress jacket.