Grouch
"What's wrong?"
"General bad day. It started way too early, I woke up on the complete wrong side of the bed, and to top it all off, I fully expect the world to end in T minus fifty minutes max."
"Damn, you're grumpy. Girlfriend dump you or something?"
"I only wish, man. I only wish."
Farman decided in a few seconds of rapid thought that Havoc needed coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. To hell with decaf. "Well, today's been slow, so just sit tight and relax. I'll get you some coffee–"
"Who made it?"
"Mustang."
"All right then."
"And then maybe you can talk about what's bugging you?"
Havoc snorted. "Where will I even begin to expound on my woes?"
"At least you're beginning to sound a little like your old self."
"Small blessing, I know."
Farman laughed and sauntered off. Havoc's grin slowly faded. The not-quite-argument with Ed that morning had left him emotionally drained and exhausted. He still wasn't entirely sure where Ed got off in all of this. To say that he was confused would be the Understatement of the Year.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he groaned, dropping his head down onto the polished wood surface. Handy things, desks.
"A heap of trouble, I would assume," Mustang said dryly from the doorway.
"... the hell are you doing here?"
"He followed me," Farman volunteered from behind the alchemist.
"Followed? More like you followed him," Havoc quipped, not very happy with the newest turn of not-so-good events. "You're getting pushy, General."
"Not nearly as pushy as I have been or could be," he was reminded smoothly.
"Sod off. I'm not in the mood."
"You were in the mood for Fullmetal."
Havoc's head snapped up, blue eyes icy. "There was a line, Mustang. I think you've just crossed it. I'd thank you to get the fuck out of the room."
