Temper Temper

Roy shrank back against the door frame, trying to pretend he wasn't scared out of his mind.

It wasn't working.

You wouldn't expect the Flame Alchemist to afraid of much, if of anything at all; after all there aren't many things that cannot be reduced to piles of ashes or puddles of goo when enough heat is applied to them.

Of course, you would only expect that until you had been faced down by Alphonse Elric in a temper.

A temper such as the one Mustang was currently the cause of.

Roy didn't even want to know where the boy had learned that look. He shivered, Al had been a much nicer boy when he had been a suit of armor, back when he didn't have expressions, on account of his face being a solid metal helmet. Of course, back then, he would have been able to break all of Roy's bones with one hand, without even trying. He hoped with all his heart the boy would not be able to do so now.

The look in his eyes wasn't very reassuring.

"Umm, uh… Can I help you with something Al?"

The Elric boy narrowed his eyes. "That depends."

Roy gulped, tightening his grip on the doorframe in a vain attempt to stop his hands from shaking. "On what?"

"On whether or not you're willing to die."

In the following moment of panic, Roy had only one thought.

Havoc was going down.

End

a/n: Hee hee. Roy's gonna be beaten to a pulp by a sixteen-year-old… Hint hint.