Good day to you, fair fanfiction readers and otakus! I give you…TAMARA TANNER. OCs are very difficult in FMA, you see, and I hope that Tamara meets your expectations. Poor sunarose couldn't update today. Or yesterday. Or whenever I get around to finishing this. As I type this AN, it's 8:51pm on Tuesday. In November. Of 2010.
3 days!
"Permission to speak freely, sir." Roy looked up at the young lieutenant standing at him desk. Tamara Tanner, that was her name. She worked in Grumman's office, and subsequently had to deliver paperwork every once in a while.
"Permission granted." He said gruffly, looking back at his paperwork in dismay. Because of his paperwork, he didn't see the lieutentant's head look back towards the outer office, her brown hair swishing around her face. It was cut in the style many young women in Central wore- in a slant, her ride side grazing her chin and the left brushing her shoulder. It was an odd style, one he was glad Riza had ignored. Tamara pulled it off better than some people, though.
She glanced back towards the main office, chewing her lip. Roy didn't see the nerves in the young lieutenant's face: for once he was completely engrossed in his paperwork.
"Sir, why haven't you asked Hawkeye out on a date yet?" Roy looked up. He must be hearing things. Tanner did not- could not- possibly have asked about Riza.
"What?"
"Hawkeye, sir. Your aide." He choked on the air he had been sucking in to steady himself.
"Sir? Are you alright?" Roy managed a deep, non-choking breath and nodded.
"Ah, yes Tanner. You see, there are rules against that sort of thing. Have you read them?" Tamara smirked.
"Nah, not really. I figure it out as I go along. Besides, considering two Fuhers have signed the petition, I don't think that's an issue." He could hear the mocking laugh in her voice, and viciously snapped his- mercifully bare- fingers under his desk. No respect. Never one ounce of respect.
"Petition?"
"Yessir!" Tamara reached into her jacket and pulled out a thick stack of paper. Roy watched as if folded out… and out… and out… and out. Soon there was a small puddle of white paper at her feet. It was covered in signatures- big, small, loopy, simple, they were all there.
"Here it is, sir. Signature #436 with a small side note: 'I want to see my granddaughter married soon, Mustang.' Huh. Crazy old man. What does his granddaughter have to do with this?" She kept muttering, but Roy gulped. It all made sense now. Grumman's insistence on marrying his granddaughter. He choked again.
"Are you sure you're alright?" The young lieutenant asked, obviously concerned. This was, after all, the second time he had choked in five minutes. No, less than that. Two, maybe three.
"Honestly lieutenant, I'm not so sure." He managed.
"Alright then, sir. I'll be going then." Tamara turned to leave as a thought occurred to Roy's swamped mind.
"Lieutenant Tanner, what field do you specialize in?" She looked over his shoulder and gave him a dangerous grin.
"Xingese martial arts, sir."
"Alright then, lieutenant. You are dismissed." Roy didn't exhale until she was out of the office for fear of choking yet again. So his choice was being shot to death or being pummeled to death. Roy glanced at the petition. 498 signatures. He whistled through his teeth, looking at the names. Some he recognized- Ed, Al, Hughes, Scar, (Roy wasn't quite sure how they had gotten Scar to sign) Christmas- some were completely foreign. Honestly, who had a name like Firestar or Foaly? Were these people made up?
"Sir, are you alright?" He jerked his head up. Riza stood over him, looking stern and worried at the same time. How she managed that he would never know.
"Yes Riza, I'm fine." She smiled.
"No, you're not. Why don't you go to the nap room and lie down for a bit, sir?" He sighed and nodded.
"Are you sure, Riza?"
"Sir, you're calling me Riza in the office. You're obviously not well."
"If second lieutenant Tanner comes in…"
"I'll stall her. Don't worry." They smiled at each other and he headed off down the hall.
BREAAAAAAKKKKKKKKKKK
A nice nap can do wonders. Unfortunately for Roy, this was not the case with him. Actually, Roy was fairly certain he was hallucinating. The line under #498, (a person named Seamus Finnagin) a position that he could've sworn was empty before he left, was now signed in the all too familiar script of one Riza Hawkeye. He rubbed his eyes. Nope, it was still there. Roy's face split into a huge, childish grin and he scribbled his name underneath hers. 500 people was enough for him to muster up the courage to ask Riza out on a date. Particularly #499.
810 words, not counting this AN. It's Thursday at 8:26. AND IT MIGHT SNOW TOMORROW! EEEEEE!
Friday's gonna be aaaaaawesome!
Might not update HS until like Wednesday- won't have much time this weekend for anything more than scribbling out a drabble in my notebook.
Conifer (the lovely girl) is writing the petition (review and say if you want on, and by what name) and YES, there is a LOT of dimension hopping in it. Be nice. Everyone wants Roy and Riza together. Including my band director and my mom (I know, weird). And I have no clue how warrior cats hold a pen, so don't ask.
I want constructive criticism. Please. I'm on my hands and knees BEGGING you. PLEASE.
