Green

"Come on, squirt, move it!"

"There's no call for you to be abusive," Mustang said mildly, decending the stairs to the training greens.

"I'm not abusive, I'm truthful. Ed's out of shape – he's been lounging around my apartment for the last few months, eating my food and reading my books." Havoc shoved a stopwatch under Mustang's nose. "Look at it! He used to be able to run a six-minute mile and his time's nearly doubled!"

Mustang took the device, good eye squinting slightly. "Jean, last time I checked, being able to run a ten-minute mile wasn't slacking."

"It is if you're in the military," Havoc said with asperity. "Regulations state that a man has to run a six-minute mile, and a woman has to run an eight minute mile. Ergo, Ed is a lazy slug."

"Ergo?"

"Sod off."

"I find this slightly hypocritical of you, Jean. You can't very well run the poor boy to his limits when you yourself can hardly walk a mile without collapsing."

"Thank you for reminding me yet again, Mustang."

Havoc got a tiny flare of satisfaction at seeing the smaller man flinch. "I'm sorry," Mustang mumbled.

"Don't worry. Once everything's fully healed, I'll be right there next to him."