A/N - Edward's adorable when he's pissed off. But don't tell him I said that.
Snapshots, Sketches and Scribbles
Target Practice
Thunk.
Havoc paused, exhaling a blue-grey plume of smoke outside the Elrics' temporary dorm.
Thunk.
It sounded as though the Major had just had another interview with the Colonel, and was taking it out on the furniture.
Thunk.
Or perhaps, the door.
Thunk.
Drawing thoughtfully on his cigarette, the Second Lieutenant wondered whether it would be wise to defuse the undersized time bomb of a blond temper tantrum before he disfigured anything beyond repair.
Thunk.
He pushed the door open - and almost bit through the roll of tobacco in his mouth in shock as something pitched at an incredible speed whizzed past his ear.
"Ever heard of knocking?" Edward's icy tone matched his glare. In his left hand, he clutched a fistful of darts, in his right, yet another potential missile, poised to be launched at the back of the door.
Havoc craned his neck to peer at the target, formerly a mission report, now a very punctured piece of paper. On the blank side, Edward had, with his phenomenal artistic ability, drawn a pudgy-looking figure with a scribble of black hair and an evil grin. In official red letters, he'd labelled the diagram "MUSTANG BASTARD".
"Can I help you?" The boy bit down on his words testily.
For a moment, Havoc stared rudely at the metallic glint of automail just visible beneath Edward's glove. "No," he replied.
"Good. Shut the door."
"Right, Boss. He carefully pulled the door closed. As the lock clicked into place, there was a growl from within, the sound prompting another Thunk.