Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.
Theme: 038. Mischief
Dedication: Irr, thank you!
Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, it would be set in the twenty fourth century.
Angles
038. Mischief
They seldom spoke of mischief.
Mischief was what her Grandfather would use to describe their plans, the things they were going to do to Amestris. Mischief was nothing really, a pitiful word to him, something unneeded and useless against such a deadly opposing force. It was not that they were weak, for Roy was one who played with fire and she had the sharpest hit anyone had ever seen; it was just that against a homunculus in control of the entire unknowing army their skills seemed highly downgraded.
In the seldom nostalgic days they had, memories of childhood rushing by in their minds, mischief was something not lost. It was something to laugh at, as although Riza had never been a mischievous child, Roy had gotten into a fair share of trouble due to his actions and the consequences were rarely things that spared him from the mild pains of going to bed without food or being boxed around the ears. Who would of thought, looking at their young faces, smiling and full of hope that they would be the ones to rebel against their own country? Who could have known in those childhood days they would join the army? Nobody. They never really thought about it, either. Roy had just wanted to be an alchemist. She did not care what she was, as long as she was by his side.
"So Hawkeye, what do you think was most mischievous thing I did as a child?" He said from across the room, and she sat up from her paperwork immediately to see him smiling about his question. Memories of silly, insignificant things flashed through her mind. Pretending to try and help the gardeners mow the lawn, then instead burning it down was pretty high up. Soap in the fountain was something she'd heard many people had done, and that hadn't been difficult to clean up. Drawing all over her bedroom walls in chalk for threatening to destroy his alchemy books was pretty mischievous, but it was more of a revenge thing there. She sighed.
"No clue. If our poor maids were still alive, I would ask them. You put them through torture." She breathed, quickly picking up her pen again and rapidly beginning to scribble down signatures on a stack of papers in black ink. Roy had taken to putting his signature down as stupid things that he made up on the spot, so she could not trust him to do it anymore. He was supposed to be folding the letters as she signed them, but on his desk she knew that the pile of completed letters was only halfway stacked up. She had not expected anything else, really. She had learnt long ago he was lazy at the best of times.
"Well, you know what? I was thinking about types of mischief, too. Want to know my favourite?" He grinned, white teeth shining deviously in a smile she knew not to trust. It was the smile that he had when he was little; hiding things with lies that were so obviously untrue she could laugh. His favourite type of mischief? What was he on about? She cocked an eyebrow, the indication that he should continue.
"The kind in the bedroom, preferably with you."
Naughty Roy. Imagine her reaction to that. I think he would be in hospital for at least a week. I hate saying this again, but sorry for not updating! I have not had a computer, and then I was ill for a fair amount of time. I hope to be updating more frequently now I have it back and I am well, though.
Preview: Führer Bradley was a sly person.
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