"Political Party"
Part I, Chapter III

Just before Jan stepped into the press room, his overbearing assistant tapped him on the shoulder. He steeled himself and turned back to her.

"Look, Lils," he said, "if it's a date you're looking for, I'd be more than happy – "

She didn't squeak and jump back, as he had hoped (though, really, it was just as well, since it was always a bit of a blow to his self-esteem whenever anybody did that). Instead, she reached for his pants. He raised his eyebrows but managed to take it mostly in stride.

"Uh...Lily, dear, I don't really have time for – "

"Asshole," she pronounced, fishing his cigarettes from his pants pocket. "We can't have you lighting up at the podium any more. You look sloppy, and it makes the President look soft on tobacco." When Jan looked as though he would protest, she added, "Mr. Hughes told me to tell you that."

"Oh," he replied. "Well. If Hughes said so. But any time you'd like to..."

"Let's keep this professional, Mr. Havoc," she said, walking into her customary place.

"Worst part is," Jan lamented to no one in particular, "after Mustang's run-in with the Secretary of War yesterday, I can't even say that he's getting less than me. Life sucks."

"And then you die," Lily called out, "probably of cancer."

"Thanks so much," he sniffed, then plastered a smirk on his face and walked out to the podium. "Good morning, everyone," he said. They slurred something that didn't even vaguely resemble anything recognizable as it registered how many of them there were. They seemed tense, too – eager, like bloodhounds. Evil and flesh-eating, of course; they were ever nothing if not evil and flesh-eating.

"The state dinner went well yesterday, for those of you who were either spending the night at home or fell asleep. The President and the new ambassador met, and they got along absolutely swimmingly, and the entire delegation has given their thanks for the gracious reception. We anticipate and hope that this will be a forerunner to smooth relations to come." He looked around at the press, straining at their metaphorical leash. Slowly, experimentally, he said, "Are there any qu-"

And there went the metaphorical flesh. Half the press corps leapt to their feet, shouting for his attention; the other half joined the first half in standing within a few moments, realizing that they would never be seen. It was but another moment before they were giving up on being called on and just shouting out their questions.

"Jan – "

"Jan – "

"Jan, does the President honestly intend to change – "

"Isn't the President ashamed at – "

"...the 'Democratic Republic of Kickass'?"

It took a moment for that last one to register. When it did, he signaled Lily over. She blinked at him a moment, then walked over and opened her mouth to ask him what he needed. He stole the cigarettes from her hand, pulled one out, and lit up. She didn't protest.

Mustang exploded out of his office, aides trailing behind him, unsure what to do to placate him. He knew how much he was upsetting them, and that gave him a bit of satisfaction. Just enough to add a mean edge onto his anger.

"Where's Hughes?" he demanded.

"Roy – " Hughes said from behind him. He stopped, and the aides practically tripped over each other in stopping too.

"Hughes, did you see that?"

"You know, Mr. President, I really think we know each other well enough that you can call me Maes," he said, cheerily enough.

Mustang was too irritated to bother to keep himself from speaking to Hughes with more accustomed formality. "Did you see that?"

"Why, yes, actually. I do have a TV in my office. Crappy one, though. I almost didn't see it through the static. Maybe you'll want to replace it for me?"

"You're laughing."

"Yep. It's pretty funny."

"It's not funny. It's not funny. At any other time, maybe – but today – I'm about to go try to intimidate Premier Bradley into leaving us alone. I cannot deal with this."

"Laugh it off, Roy. I've already told Havoc to treat it as a joke. 'Oh my God, I can't believe someone in the room was so stupid they didn't realize it was a joke.' That sort of thing. That's what it was. It's not gonna be a thing, Roy."

"Drachma already sees us as a joke, Hughes. This isn't going to help."

"Nope. It's not." Hughes shrugged broadly. "It's happened, though, and ain't nothin' we can do about it."

Mustang stirred at his anger once again. "I want to see someone fired, Hughes."

"Will booting them out the door be enough, or is execution...?" he asked, grinning.

"I'm not joking."

"You want to see someone fired," Hughes repeated, the smile falling from his face. "And what if I can't find whoever actually fucked up? Shall I fire Jan, then?"

Mustang paused a moment, then gritted out, "If that will solve the problem." He looked as though he desperately wanted to hit something.

"Hmm," Maes said. "Don't you have the call with Bradley?"

"Yes," Roy growled.

"Isn't it in your office?"

Roy grunted, wheeled around, and returned the way he came.

"He's not actually mad," Maes said to whoever it was at his right – Sheska, he saw once he actually looked at her. "He doesn't actually want me to fire anyone. You can see it in his eyes."

"I see," she said uncertainly.

He smiled at her, and she relaxed slightly. "Look, I'm gonna want to be in there while Roy's on the phone, to make sure he doesn't cause a diplomatic incident. He's a moron when he's mad. Could you find Jan and tell him something for me? Tell him not to bother looking for who actually wrote the press release. Tell him to look for who was supposed to be screening them yesterday. Okay?"

She nodded. "I got it."

"Thanks." He grinned at her. She was a good kid. "Well, wish me luck in placating the angry beast that is our President."

"Good luck," she said. Maes mock-saluted her and went to join Roy.

"Good afternoon, Premier Bradley," Roy was saying as Maes walked in.

"Mr. President," the Premier responded. He sounded...like he always did. Guy had a fantastic poker voice.

"How's your son, Premier?" he asked quickly.

"He looks more and more like you every day." The Premier and Roy both laughed; it was a joke the two had running that each pretended was funnier than it was.

"Congratulations on your latest unemployment numbers, by the way," Roy said.

"Oh, thank you. They're not good..."

"Improving, though."

"For the first time since I took office, I lament."

"Well. The entire world suffered a bit of a downturn around then." Maes added in his head, as Roy doubtless added in his head, that Bradley was in no small part responsible for said downturn. Bad form to say that, though.

"Yes, I suppose. Yes! Definitely! My, if there's anything that's better than blaming your personal failures on something else..." Bradley again broke into a guffaw. Roy's more reserved laughter joined in a moment later.

"God knows I've been doing nothing but since I took office," Roy said. "Parliament, other countries, my wife..."

"Have you gotten married yet, then?"

"No; I'm just shoring up all possibilities, here," Roy said. Remarkable that, angry as he had been – angry as he was – he was positively chatty.

"Well. I'm sure that my wife would be more than willing to leave me for you," Bradley laughed. "Not, of course, that you would take her. Much more beautiful women out there falling all over you."

"Oh, I rather doubt that there's any one more beautiful than your wife, Premier. You must be quite the lady-killer."

"I had my day, I suppose," Bradley replied. "All you have to do, really, is take 'em out for a couple of boat rides, swear a few promises, and buy them flowers. Consider that advice from me to you."

"Thank you, Premier. I'll definitely take that advice when I have the time for a few boat rides. That'll be – what – six months from now?"

"Oh, yes. How are your poll numbers?"

"Good enough. Apparently, I'm out-of-step with the rest of the country...You know how it goes."

"You should declare a dictatorship," Bradley said. "It worked for me." There was a pause before he exploded in laughter again. Roy, once again, laughed as well.

"And you're doing an admirable job at dictating. Just ask your secretaries," Roy joked. Bradley laughed again.

"Oh, you're a good old boy," Bradley chuckled. "I had my doubts when you first took office. You were terribly young. And General Gran, God rest his soul, had said that you were borderline insubordinate. But Amestris has truly become a great nation under your care." There was a moment of pensive silence that Roy, wisely, didn't break. "I expect, Mr. President, that you will help me avenge the General's murder."

"I will, Premier," Roy said solemnly. "Basque Gran was a great man." The President fortunately didn't trip over his tongue with that lie, but he did grimace at Maes once it was out of his mouth. "You're most likely aware that we have the suspect in our custody."

"Yes."

"Even as we speak, a military tribunal is being set up – "

"President Mustang," Bradley interrupted, "give him to us."

Again, Roy pulled a face that didn't manifest itself in his speech. "Premier, I can assure you that justice will be done."

"Justice cannot be done in a country without the death penalty. We want to see Elric pay." There was something in the way that the Premier said that that rang discordant in Maes' ear; he filed his unease away. "You know what it says in the Bible."

Roy, stupidly, offered, "Turn the other cheek?"

For once, Bradley did not laugh. "It's simple enough, Mustang. We want him. Give him to us."

"Premier, Amestris is a sovereign nation. We will not allow – "

"Sovereignty be damned," Bradley said calmly. "We will see him pay."

"He's a citizen of Amestris!"

"Who committed a crime against Drachma," Bradley snapped back. "Your country, Mr. President, is an international joke. You truly expect me to take seriously a nation that does not take itself seriously?"

Shit. Roy winced visibly. "Premier, I resent your insinuation."

"I insinuate nothing. I'm merely responding to what I've seen on the news this very morning. I laughed."

"I have little doubt of that," Roy muttered. Shit. No, Roy. Even when you're not muttering something offensive, don't mutter in front of Bradley. It enrages him.

And when the Premier next spoke, it was indeed with anger manifest in his voice: "If you don't hand him over, we'll consider your government as harboring a criminal."

"Then so be it. We will not hand one of our citizens to be tried in a foreign court."

"So be it," Bradley spat back; "and we consider this an act of aggression." He let that sink in. "Best of luck in the coming election."

"Best of luck – " Roy hissed back at the phone, before Maes' frantic signaling to keep himself in hand registered. So he took a deep breath and finished, "In your economic recovery, Premier."

And then there was a hum as the Premier hung up. Roy carefully pushed the button that turned off the speakerphone, then with a soft cry swept the phone off the edge of the desk and kicked it, then collapsed into his chair and pressed his face into his hands.

"Well," Maes said, after Roy had spent about a minute in that pose.

"That went well," Roy said. He lowered his hands. He looked haggard. "This will be the end of us all. I can see it now."

"Ahh, you said the same thing when Creta and Aerugo got into that feud. We got through that all right, didn't we?" Maes leaned over the desk to muss his friend's hair. "It'll be fine."

Roy swatted his hand away. "Get together with Armstrong and Marco. We need to come up with a plan to hand Elric over as gracefully as possible if Bradley goes through with his threat."

"Sure. It's just a symbolic thing, after all," Maes said.

"Yeah." Roy sighed and collapsed facedown on the desk again. "I'm just tired of being Bradley's bitch."

"Yeah," Maes agreed. Then he paused, eyeing the back of the President's head. "Do you...want me to set up a meeting with Elric?"

Roy looked up. "Why?"

"I dunno. I just got kind of a weird vibe from Bradley. I can meet with him, if you'd like."

The President resettled his chin and tried to shake his head. It ended up being sort of a side-to-side wagging. "No. If you think I should, I'll meet with him."

"Later today, I think," Maes speculated out loud. "You and Hawkeye should meet, and then the two of you will go over together. Her first test will be defending you from a hardened criminal chained to the wall."

Roy blinked. "Hawkeye?"

"Williams' replacement."

"Ah. 'Her'?"

"Yep. Any objections?"

"Is she pretty?"

"I haven't met her. She, uh...used to be in the army, too. She was stationed in Ishvar, a while after we were." Maes watched; Roy closed his eyes and sighed through his nose.

"Good," Roy murmured after a moment. "That's going to be it, I think, for now. I'm going to take an early lunch."

"Chicken soup?" Maes asked. Roy sort-of nodded, a bit of a rueful smile making its way onto his face, and Maes went to go tell the chef. He might have delegated, normally – not today, though; he'd carry the food into his friend himself.

(A/N: Points to tigerofthewind.)