A/N - This may be the last drabble I upload for a couple of weeks...

Disclaimer - Me no own.

Thanks to - Su-chan, Aznsnowflake, ElasticBobaTurtle (Thank you so SO much for your reviews on my other stories), C.A.M.E.O.1 and Only, Rukusho, The Silent Alchemist, saffiremoon21 and Maylin-Chan for reviewing. You guys rock!

Sinners

Three: Envy

The air is damp, clogged, contaminated - thick with smoke, congested with conversation, reeking of alcohol, and Riza Hawkeye finds this astounding: The mere thought of the atmosphere bursting at the seams, considering the fact that the size of this ballroom is beyond her comprehension.

This function honestly has to be the first time she's seen this many people in one room, and quite frankly, being part of it is not convenient, especially when one has appointed herself with the task of keeping an eye on a certain Colonel, who has an infuriating tendency to get blissfully tipsy and wander off in a semi-intoxicated, flirtatious "trance".

She locates him by pure chance, in the midst of a small cluster of high-ranking aristocrats.

Most of them are women.

She's aware of his notorious reputation as a heartbreaker and she knows she shouldn't be concerned about females hanging off his arm, but no matter how many times you're cut with a razor, it still stings twice as much when you don't expect it to.

Riza watches from a distance - below him as he leans on the railing of the gallery - and wishes that that dress was hers, that her hands were as unblemished and perfect and that it's her waist that Roy's arm is wrapped around, her ear he's whispering into, her that he's trying to seduce tonight.

Riza can't tell if he's drunk or not. He's laughing more than usual, but whether it's alcohol or deliberate force that's influencing this behaviour is uncertain. There's an odd, almost desperate hope that the explanation is the former.

They're both in dress uniform, Riza and Roy, starched and stiffly formal, insignificant patches of blue lost amongst a sea of black and grey dinner jackets and vibrant gowns of silk and lace.

Individuals seek comfort in their own kind.

And yet, as she gazes up at her superior and fellow military officer, she has never been so close and felt so distant.

It leaves her empty and aching: A fragile shell whose contents have been consumed by envy.

At last he turns, glances over his shoulder and spots her in the crowd below. With a winning smile, he subtly tilts the flute of champagne towards her and drinks a mocking toast.

She shatters.

He turns away to forget and so does she, vanishing into the crowd as fragments of her thoughts cut so deeply, it's a wonder she isn't lying there bleeding to death.

At the door, Riza hesitates and turns back once more. Roy's watching her, but he's far - much too far away, and even as she collects her coat, excusing herself with a headache, she wonders if he can see the pieces of her broken heart that she has so carelessly left behind.