"Goddammit, dog!"

Hayate obviously doesn't understand the sentiment and barks once, setting the mangled remains of a Pyrotex glove at Colonel Mustang's feet. His tail thumps against the tile, tongue lolling out, looking extremely pleased with himself, and Roy bristles; there's a piece of what was once a transmutation circle caught in the little dog's teeth.

"I told you not to leave your gloves where he can reach them, sir," Hawkeye chimes from her desk, with more than a little I-told-you-so creeping around the edges of the words. Havoc sniggers behind a manila folder, Fuery shoots an anxious glance from the puppy to his superior and back, and Breda, not surprisingly, is nowhere to be found.

Maes, however, is laughing from the doorway.

"You said you'd trained it, Lieutenant," Mustang grinds through clenched teeth. It takes the majority of his willpower not to give Hayate a swift kick in that happy tail of his.

"He's still a puppy. Puppies chew." And with that she whistles, unruffled by the whole affair, and the little dog's ears perk towards her. Shaking the last remnants of destroyed gloves from his fur, he pads meekly back to his master's side.

"Just…keep it out of my office."

Riza nods once and Roy strides back to his desk, Hughes at his heels.

"You could've just closed the door, you know," Maes says once they're out of earshot of the team, glancing from Roy to the Lieutenant and back, "or would it block the view?"

"Hughes, there's a reason they call dogs 'man's best friend,' you know."

Maes grins and leans against the side of the desk, whistling for the dog, and in true puppy fashion, Hayate bounds over wagging his tail so hard his rear end could've taken off. "Just calling 'em like I see 'em, chief."