Desertion
"Are you sure this is such a good idea?" Havoc asked Hawk– er, Liza.
"We'll be fine," she said, liquid calm. She glanced sideways at him, a smile hovering just off her lips. "After all, you've been doing this with General Mustang for years now, haven't you?"
Havoc heeked, turning bright red. "How the hell do you do that?!"
This time, the smile stuck. "Mustang. His body gets stiff and possessive if anyone talks to you. You... you're hard to read like that, actually. Stupidity masking intelligence, perhaps?"
He had to stand there for a minute, trying to figure out if she meant that as a compliment or not. He finally gave up. "Liza, I have no idea how this is going to work," he said honestly.
"Neither do I. It was more of a spur-of-the-moment thing. Temporary insanity if you like."
"Yeah, that sounds about right."
"But seriously, Jean, if you ever need someone to help you feel better, or someone to help make Mustang jealous –"
"Oh?"
She grinned outright. "He's becoming too big for his britches, and what am I here for but to cut him down to size?"
"Point."
The wandered off across the park together, Liza's head resting on Jean's shoulder.