Disclaimer: I don't own Full Metal Alchemist, I never have and never will.

Stocks

Nibble. Bite. Chew. Chomp. Repeat.

That was the new daily routine of Brigadier General Riza Hawkeye. She was once again, the secretary of the office playboy, Fuhrer Roy Mustang. She had become his personal secretary only weeks ago. And in those weeks had gone threw...

Twenty packs of gum

Seventeen packs of pencils with erasers

Five packs of pencils

And all threw this, she ALMOST took up smoking just to calm her nerves.

Nibble. Bite. Chew. Chomp.

Was all Mustang heard, quietly, at Hawkeye's desk in the office right outside of his. The occasional drawer opening to grab a new pencil, pen or stick of gum was also heard. And that of her boots tapping the floor as she went out to the supply closet to get more pencils, pens and gum.

"Brigadier General, please come here." Mustang called out. He heard a snap. Then, the sound of boots entering his office. He smiled and looked up.

Hawkeye stood in a black knee high boots, a blue military jacket, butt skirt and the shortest of short mini skirts that went down to just mid thigh. Her long blonde hair was falling over her shoulders as her gloved hand went to salute.

"At ease Hawkeye." Mustang smiled. He noted the chewed pen in Hawkeye's mouth and chuckled.

"Stressed? You shouldn't be. you look very...'lovely' today." He said with a playboy smile. His reply was that of a bullet flying by his head and the sound of boots leaving the office.

Nibble. Bite. Chew. Chop. Bang!

Was all the Fuhrer heard from Hawkeye ever since he passed his new dress code law.

A/N - Figure out why I called it stocks? Oh come on. If you can't figure it out, send me an e-mail and ask. Please review. Constructive criticism accepted. No Flames (Thats Roy's job only).