Tomodachi
Riza is definitely not best friend material.
Havoc would rather kill me than talk to me.
Armstrong…no.
Fuery? A bit emotional.
Like I could share anything with Breda without the whole military knowing.
Edward is sixteen.
Alphonse is FIFTEEN.
This thought process is getting me nowhere. I don't know what to do with myself. I haven't had a date in weeks, and am actually doing paperwork. This definitely falls under the category of "You-know-there's-something-wrong-with-Roy-Mustang-when…" So. Here I am, staring into countless piles of white papers with idiotic statements requiring a signature from Colonel Mustang over and over and over. Paperwork gives me a headache Every. Damn. Time.
It's almost three o' clock, and yet no distractions will come today. I sigh. My signature becomes loopier as the hours pass. Hawkeye has left me for the time being. Apparently I've become trustworthy enough these past weeks to be left alone for limited amounts of time. Oh goody.
I'm fiddling with my gloves again. Really, I should be incredibly irritated around this hour, but I'm not. I snap dully and tiny sparks entertain my drifting eyes. I would be a pyromaniac if I hadn't been forced to kill using my flames. Now all I see is burning flesh for every snap I make and the idea of fire becomes less appealing.
It's three o'five… Well, occasionally he was late too. I'm back to signing things again. And reading about crap. And giving permission for crap. And putting aside things for Hawkeye to permit crap. I've never enjoyed routine as much as I do now. It was the same every day. Read and sign, procrastinate, yell at subordinates, pretend I'm doing the read and sign thing again when Hawkeye arrives. It was a pretty good deal now that I think about it.
The anxiety returns around now. I stand and pace solemnly. It's three ten and really it's not natural that that office is so quiet. Should I throw something? The phone rings with a pierce shrill and I flinch. I lean against the desk as I answer because, surely, this happens everyday.
"Mustang here."
Right?
"Get yourself a wife!" The voice enthusiastically shouts over the line. I pause before slamming the phone down with a forlorn smile.
Of course it does.
Thanks Edward.