Colonel Roy Mustang.
The flame alchemist who scorched my skin at the Ishval war. The one who stalked me into the forest, who had yet to fully explain why. Basically assaulted me. Harassed me. Taunted me. The man who burned (again) my shoulder to cauterize a wound.
Overall, just a real piece of worthless (insert strong choice of word here).
To think I'd actually concerned myself over him.
No, no. To think I'd actually come to think that he, in some fantasy way, brought me back to the land of living.
Ha!
What was I doing here? Seriously. How in the world did I find myself in this situation? Did I ever plan on driving my best friend to suicide, have my wings feeling like I've been bashed repeatedly by a mace, and then being forced unconscious by that little, good for nothing-
Deep breath. It's ok. It's all good.
It's all just fan freaking tastic.
"Misaki…? Oh good, you're awake."
Misaki… oh right. That's me. I had to get used to it. Seeing as how I'm being held hostage, against my will, inside this tiny, confined space, I'd probably be called Misaki for quite a while. Just where the devil was I? And good god! My head is pounding. My shoulder is screaming to fall off. My throat hurts. And I am just this close, this close to decapitating the Colonel if he even sets foot in the same room as me.
"Misaki? How are you feeling?"
I move at a snail pace, trying to pull up to a seated position. A hand braces against my back, tenderly helping.
"Ugh," I say intelligently, waving away Riza's insistence to assist. "I've been better."
Riza respects my space, retreating to a comfortable, plush-looking chair. She watches me, like a protective hawk, ready to catch me if I were to pathetically tumble off this- whatever it was. What the hell was this? A marshmallow?
I press my palms against cushions. Soft. Real cushions. A sofa.
Glancing around, I notice I'm in a living room. I think that's what city folk called it. Although it's dreadfully small, and tiny and confined… Ugh. Definitely not the open woods.
"You look terrible."
I narrow my eyes at Riza. She's smiling friendly enough. I dismiss her comment as being harmless.
"Yeah," I sigh, squeezing my fists as I attempt sliding back against the armrest. "Well. You'd look terrible too, living in the trees and such."
"Good point," she notes.
It gets kind of awkward after that.
I'm not particularly a fan of these uncomfortable silences, so I spend it staring at the almost nauseatingly safe, give to your guests when they're cold, cuddle by the fireplace, blanket, covering my beaten up legs. I grimace. Actually paying attention to my scratches, burns, and other nasty marks, I'm realizing just how terrible, as Riza pointed, I looked. It's almost insulting how bad I seem in comparison to all her clean, polished (polished?) furniture. Geez. With a deep inhale, I smell perfection and a hint of gunpowder. Riza. Ever the loyal, professional sniper.
She coughs, twiddling with, sure enough, pistols. I raise an eyebrow questionably, curious as to where she hid those and when she had decided to pull them out. Beaming, she's a child, disassembling and cleaning away.
"Riza?" I venture, strangely lulled by the small clinks and clicks of metal against metal. "Would you mind telling me, because I think I remember, but I'm not really happy with what I remember…?" I huff, reminiscing. "Would you just tell me what happened…umm…"
"Two days ago?" she finishes for me. Snapping together the finishes touches.
I nod, "Yes, two…eh? Eh?!" I straighten, wondering if I heard right. Two days?! I'd been knocked out for two entire days?!
Riza puts away her toy, nodding. She's wearing her uniform. And being drawn by the ticking of a clock, I find it is half past eight. In the afternoon.
"You were…er…"
"Put to sleep," I groan, taking her hesitant speech to give away the fact that, yes indeed, I had been forced to black out.
"Y-Yeah," she says, pursing her lips. "We brought you back here to my place, and I made sure to wake you up every once in a while for some soup and water." She grows grim at the mentioning, folding her hands into her lap. "You refused each time." In alarm, she perks up, startling me. "Oh, how rude of me! You're awake now, and you must be starving, let me go get some…" She took off into what I supposed was the kitchen, swinging open cabinets and dropping plates. As I try telling her not to stress herself, a bottle of water shoves its way into my hands, dripping from perspiration.
"Th-Thanks?" I say as a question, entranced by her generosity. Now that I think about it, I am rather thirsty. So I take a few gulps, setting the drink down at a nearby table, stunned to find a bowl of steaming noodle soup waiting for me. That was fast.
"Thanks," I say again. She smiles, taking her spot once more. "So," I continue after a spoonful of soup. My mind tells it it's delicious, but my stomach takes it like a ball of acid, contracting painfully. "This is your home?"
Riza considers this before replying, "Well, more of an apartment. Originally the Colonel-" She stops, flushing.
"The Colonel, what?" I prod, failing miserably at concealing the edge in my tone. What more was the Colonel willing to do? When I was unconscious. "What'd he do?"
"He didn't do anything," she assures. "When we arrived back in the city, Hughes and I were deciding whether or not we should have taken you to the hospital…"
"Which you didn't, right?" I hope, heart drumming. She shakes her head and I exhale in relief. The action brings a questioning glint in her eyes, but she continues without intrusion.
"No, the Colonel refused."
He refused? He actually listened to my demand?
"Instead he insisted that we take you to his place," she says, sounding suddenly tired.
"Right," I grumble. Seems like something a man of his character would want.
"Sorry," she apologizes on his behalf, raising the hate level towards him up another notch. His assistant, his Lieutenant, had to apologize for the idiot? "I made sure to make a convincing point in getting you here instead."
She said that while looking back over to her reassembled gun and I shuddered.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me quite yet," she sighs with an annoyed scowl. "That man can be… difficult."
I'll say.
"Every once in a while, he'd demand I let him come and visit you. Kept on trying to move past the door when I walked through."
"You…don't say."
She shakes her head and I have the urge to pat her on the shoulder in support for the poor woman.
"I really am sorry about him. He's…" she trails off, struggling with the adjectives.
"An ass? A complete moron? Jerk?"
Riza's eyes go soft, melting my anger. "He may seem that way, but in actuality…he's really a good person."
"I find that a little hard to believe," I scoff, swallowing another portion of soup and emptying the bottle of water. My intestines churn. My belly aches.
Riza shrugs, makes an 'oh well' face. "You'll know what I mean."
I pause at her statement, gazing down at my lap. Again with the hinted possibilities of there being a future with me in it. Of course I had all too happily given into a new identity, but I never really came close to considering accompanying my three saviors. There was still much about me that I couldn't erase, as hard as I've tried. Much too much to take in. What if they discovered my history? What if they asked why stopping even my heart didn't kill me? It's filled with so many risks and so little benefits. Even though the pros sounded pretty tempting, the cons were enough to scare me. People were still alive and seeking revenge. I wouldn't want anyone to become involved.
Oh come on. Who's to say they even wanted me here in the first place? They probably made some pledge to help any injured person, stranger or not. That included me. They noticed I was in pretty crappy condition, and thought to complete their duties as caring officials and take me in. Even though it was forced upon. Literally. As soon as I heal, which I hope will happen soon, they'll be relieved to see me off. Maybe even now, they want me gone.
"Misaki? You've been staring off for a while…"
"Hmm?" I raise my head. "Oh, sorry."
"You're not planning to leave anytime soon are you?" Riza asks with a notch of concern. It's only because she's kind. She's just being polite.
"I'll try to leave as soon as possible," I answer with a smile. My stomach is really beginning to feel bruised. It felt as if it was rejecting everything I dropped into my mouth. Subtly, I move to find a more comfortable position, cringing at the stress it puts on my shoulder.
"No need," Riza says firmly. "With those injuries, you're going to be staying in the area for at least a couple of weeks."
"Couple of weeks?" I say, stunned. "That's too long. I'll be good to go, I'm sure, in like a couple of days."
"Absolutely not," says Riza, switching into a mothering tone. "Even if you're well enough, so you may claim, to walk around the entire city. If it's under two weeks, the Colonel and I will make sure to it that you remain close."
"But," I protest, cursing my damn state. I could hardly move. "That's ridiculous-"
"What's ridiculous is the fact that after two years I find you in the middle of Amestris, at gunpoint with a dangerous killer, and you were involved in one of the most terrifying massacres, which was not even a couple months ago. That's ridiculous, Misaki."
I flinch at how she stretches out the last word. Just by doing that, she confirms that she remembers our conversation clearly from, man… two years. Two years had gone by. That couldn't be right. It seems only yesterday we were sitting against that wall, talking about people who were actually alive.
"There's no way it's been two years."
Riza shakes her head. "Just about. Maybe I'm behind a couple of months, but that's it. Point being, you've been through so much, you're not only here to recover from physical wounds, but-"
"Emotional," I say, suddenly mourning for all the experiences I never had the chance to go through. Always I'd been out on the road, away from people, just waiting for the next day. And the next. And the next. What all I'd missed, whether fun or work, I wouldn't know. Years of missing out.
"Yes," Riza says quietly. "So you now that you understand, I want you promise me you'll abide by my rules. Two weeks, minimum. Stay within the city, when you are able to move comfortably and with full confidence you won't faint, with, and only with, permission from yours truly." She stops, considers. "And maybe the Colonel."
"Wha-"
"Actually, you have to have either the Colonel or I to accompany you on your walks. Whenever you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me with that phone over there." She points to a white telephone hanging on the wall. "The number to reach me is already written on that piece of paper, by the stove. The Colonel's is on there as well, although I'd prefer if you contacted me first. You are not to touch anything hazardous, the oven, knives, none of that."
"Oh come on," I groan, frowning at her instructions. Her suffocating, childish instructions. "You can't be serious. I've been a knight, for god sake. Sharp and dangerous things are not an issue."
"In your condition it is, and I'd prefer that you not have any triggering evidence of your past difficulties."
Meaning she didn't want me to have a freak out and remember Ishval and death and flames…
"Then does this mean I'm banned from speaking to the Colonel?" I ask sarcastically.
"No," she says seriously, standing up to walk over to a closed door. "This is my room. Usually I have it open, but seeing how I don't want to disturb you, feel free to knock at any given time if you need my assistance. I'll try my best to wake up and help."
"Listen, you can drop the formality," I point out amusingly. Eating another bite, making a bitter face. I think I was going to be sick. Riza ignores my comment, showing me where the sink, extra pillows, food, blankets, and bathroom were. I stop her at bathroom, willing my legs to budge. Yep. Definitely going to be sick.
"Riza…" I mutter, absolutely humiliated by the idea of asking for assistance in getting up.
She notices my pale face and darts out and into the bathroom, bringing a trash can. I'd be grateful for her trying to leave me some of my dignity, but I just didn't have the stomach. As soon as the container hit the floor, I was heaving out the only meal fueling my system.
There came a knock at the door.
"Lieutenant? I'm going to assume that's your guest demonstrating just how much she hates me?"
The voice makes me vomit even more aggressively. Riza rubs at her forehead.
"Let me in. If she's awake, I'd like to at least exchange a friendly hello."
Gazing down, I note the small bits of blood. As soon as the thought of hiding it enters, Riza has already taken notice, leaving and returning with a napkin and warm, wet towel. She takes away the filth, wiping at my mouth, ignoring my protests to doing it myself, and tells me to lie down. Unhappy, I obey, letting her fold the warm towel upon my head. It's actually pretty soothing.
"I'd give you something for your stomach, but I'm fairly certain your body would reject that too."
Another heavy knock.
"Lieutenant. Open the door."
Riza sighs, assuring me she'll take care of it, and walks to door, opening it and shutting it carefully behind her. With her slim figure, she was able to make it to which I didn't even catch a glimpse of the flame alchemist. I was fine with that.
What I wasn't fine with was the heavy spell forcing my eyes to close and my mind to drift.
"No way. You're such a liar."
"It's true! You have to believe me. They were holding hands and getting all…grabby."
"Mia the jeweler and Markus the butcher? Really?"
"Yes! I saw it with my own two eyes. Now I'm going to have to go and wash them with soap."
"Maybe even with a little bit of alcohol, yeesh."
Naomi giggled, at my horrified expression, holding her stomach.
"Jesus, Nao," I tried scowling disapprovingly, my mouth itching to smile. "Way to come and almost make me lose my dinner. Dis-gust-ing."
"Oh whatever," she laughed, leaning against me. "You know, right now, I'll bet-"
"Christ!" I yelled, punching her in the shoulder, hiccupping a few chuckles. "I do not need to know that!"
Naomi continued to laugh, rubbing the spot I hit her. "Ouch. Mind the arm, I've got a job."
"Oh whatever," I snorted, punching her again, lightly. "What is it? Telling people how to properly decorate their homes?"
"Ok, it's not my fault that our ancestors have no grasp over the word, presentation."
I shrugged, know that going any further would unleash her inner chatterbox. "Whatever."
We stopped talking for a moment and collapsed onto our backs, gazing up at the stars, relishing in our daily tradition.
I loved this spot. It was just above the fruit stand, which we could sneak into at any time due to our craftiness, and concealed in one of the outer areas. The nights were growing cooler. The wind grazed gently against our exposed skin, combed through our hair. We had just finished up our meals, leaving the moms to do the dishes and the dads to talk about guy stuff.
We were a couple of friends enjoying the quietude of our town.
"Hey Kaze," Naomi breaks the silence.
"Hmm?"
"The prince's lights are on."
I lift up just enough to see what she's pointed out. Sure enough, the great palace was dark and ominous, all but a square that of course Naomi would know to be Prince Claudio's. "Yuh-huh," I say boringly. Naomi made a sound of offense.
"Did you not hear me say the prince's lights are on?"
"Oh no," I teased, smirking at her. "I'm certain even he did."
She responded with a hard smack on my thigh.
"Calm down, your highness," I joked, shimmying away from another one of her rage fits.
"Oh, would you just drop the act already?"
I eyed her dully. "What act?"
"The, 'I'm Kaze, the one and only girl in the entire world that doesn't think that boy is fine' act."
"Nao," I chuckled. "Don't you think you're being a little extreme? You've never even spoken to him. What if he's a prick?"
She looked horrified, sitting up and yanking me with her. "He is not a prick. And my god, K. I have spoken to him before."
"Yes," I sighed, "As have the other fifty something girls in the Prince Claudio fan club."
"Hey," she said sharply, pointing a finger threateningly. "That club was created to boost his confidence and let him know he is never alone."
"Oh I'm sure it boosts his ego quite a bit."
"Whatever, okay? I'm just- ugh!" She threw her hands dramatically into the air, frustrated.
"What's the matter grumps?"
Forcefully, she turns my face to look at her.
"Spill it."
I tried shoving her away, laughing. "Quite it! Spill what?"
With a grumble, she pinches my cheeks. Something she knew I absolutely hated. "Ow!"
"Who do you like?"
"Oh, not this again," I complained, tugging at her wrists. "Ugh, would you stop already?"
"I will never stop until you come clean!" she yelled, pinching harder. "There has got to be some boy out there lucky enough to win your love!"
I rolled my eyes, used to these random outbursts. "Could you be any louder? And cut your nails, woman. I can't feel my face."
Reluctantly, she released me from her clutches, unsatisfied.
"You have got to be interested in someone."
"Nope."
"Why not?" she whined, pulling on my sleeve.
"Why do you care?"
She paused, glancing back over at the palace, then settled back onto me.
"Don't you want to be in love?" she asked in a softer voice. I shrugged again, sliding over to the edge and reaching down into the unlocked stash of fruit. "Hey. I'm being serious."
I came back up with a clump of raspberries. After popping a couple into my mouth, I took in her attentive state. She was really dying to have me answer this type of stuff. But I wasn't that girly. In fact, all this time, I'd been think constantly about hitting the yard and pulling out the dummies and swords. Maybe try some archery with Papa. He'd always wanted to teach me. Fighting was in my blood. And Naomi, being the only one I cared enough to hang out with, was sick of it. Always trying to get me to go look at clothes and flirt with boys. Eh-yuck.
"I don't know, Nao," I sighed, crossing my legs and trying to engage into my inner womanliness? "Honestly, I think that love is such a trivial thing. Well, I mean the love you're talking about. Of course I love you and my family, but to take the time to know a boy and have these… 'Feelings'? That's just not me."
She watched me for a moment, waiting for more, but I continued to stuff down berries.
"You know those'll give you a stomachache if you eat too much."
I shrugged. Naomi frowned, annoyed. "What now prissy pants?" I grinned.
"You keep on shrugging and it's really, really annoying! I hate when you shrug!"
"Oh. Someone's a bit stingy. Are you sad that you're here with loveless me and not there in the Prince's room doing… who knows what?"
She turned a hilarious shade of pink, attempting to steal a raspberry. I dodged with ease. She lunged again, and I rolled away, still eating.
"Mark my words, Kaze," she fumed, still chasing after my food. "You are going to fall in love with someone and you're going to fall hard."
"The girl threatens me," I laughed, taunting her by waving the final berry in my fingers. Then with a smirk, I pull out my worst Prince Claudio impersonation. "Come Princess Naomi, come steal my precious fruit and let me tend to your sleeping flower!"
"I'll kill you!" she screamed, running after me, laughing hysterically all the way home.
The light in the palace went dark.
I wake up with a smile on my face.
"Looks like you had a pleasant dream."
Startled, I open my eyes, feeling the comforts of my memory slowly fade away. Riza is reading a book, glancing up to flash a friendly smile.
"Hungry?" she asks. I shake my head and a frown takes place. "Well, you should eat sometime today." Closing the book, she sets it down on the table and picks up her dishes, leaving behind a full plate of eggs and bacon. As starving as I am, I really can't bring myself to eat. I know I'd only get sick.
The sounds of dishes clattering and water running has me scooching back up to a sitting position. I check over my shoulder, with difficulty, seeing Riza doing the dishes.
"You're still in your uniform," I say, fighting the drowsiness of sleep. Riza nods, concentrating on her chores.
"Yes, I am. But don't think that I sleep in this thing," she says, chuckling. "I'm normal if you were wondering. You've just been choosing the worst times to get up."
At that, I check the closest clock. Six. Six in the afternoon? No, she made breakfast.
"You get up this early for work?" I ask, eyeing the plate again. Nope. Can't do it.
"Yes. It's demanding, but I'm fine with it." The faucet turns off, and she walks over, frowning at my untouched plate. "Not going to try?"
Sheepishly, I shake my head. "S-Sorry."
With a shrug and a sigh, she picks it up, empties it in the trash, summoning a wave of guilt, and tosses the plate into the empty sink.
"It's fine, I guess," Riza says at my apologetic look. "But seriously, you need to eat something at some point."
Collecting her things, she starts for the door, but then thinks twice about it. Walking into her bedroom, I depict the noise of a drawer opening and closing, and she appears, holding a bundle of clothes.
"I'm not saying that you're filthy or anything," she assures, placing the clothes neatly on the table. "But I'm suggesting you take a nice, how shower, not too hot of course, but these clothes should fit…" She looks doubtful, seeing as I'm shorter. This comes to crush my pride. "Ah, it'll be a little baggy, but not to worry. It's comfortable, I promise. Hopefully you'll be able to move about a little easier today."
I nod, then remember about my equipment. "Umm… Where are my things?"
Riza stiffens before telling me, "I've hidden them."
"Wh-What?!" I shout, trying to get up to no avail. "What do you mean hidden?"
She picks up her work things once again, beginning to leave. "It's as I say. I hid them somewhere safe to make sure you don't do anything stupid."
"Those are mine! Who's to say I'd do something stupid?!"
Firmly, she passes a stone hard expression, freezing me to the spot. Suddenly I do feel like I'd do something really stupid. She's right. Everything she says is absolutely right, ha, ha.
With a blinding smile, she adds, "Oh, and don't be alarmed to see me during noon for lunch. I'll be checking to make sure you've eaten something, so try not to sleep all day."
And with that, she shut the door, leaving me to shake away the small nagging fear at the back of my mind. Riza Hawkeye could be frightening when she wanted to be.
I glance over at the pile of clothes.
Shower did sound rather tempting.
With a yawn, I do a small prayer in hopes I'd be able to move to the bathroom and back. Much to my joy, my feet hit the carpet, bare, and I only suffer a few shots of pain to the shoulder. As long as I keep that entire arm slack and use my good one, I'm actually able to function.
I'm almost compelled to throw out a victorious squeal, but instead settle for my reward being a nice, hot, well done scrub down. Clothes being a vital thing to have, I gather together for the first time in months, a new outfit. Pajamas really, but a wonderful gift none-the-less. At the rate of the elderly on a walker, I adventure on to the mysterious domain of cleanliness and relaxation.
When I've traveled the treacherous distance to, not simply the shower, a bathtub, I reconsider my plans and fall into a craving for a bubbly soak. And much to my greatest pleasure, in one guess I find that the Lieutenant had a bottle chuck full of bubble-breeding amazingness with my name on it in a nearby cabinet. It shouldn't come as a surprise. I was sure Riza, having to put up with Roy every single day at work, was completely entitled to letting all those cooped up frustrations and annoyances melt away in a perfectly drawn bath. Just as I was more than glad to embark in, myself.
The mechanics are simple enough. With a grunt I twist the knob, watching with a growing excitement, hot water gradually filling the tub. I plop in the plug, add the syrupy soap, and nearly attack the first forming bubbles. The inner child of me wants to take a handful of the suds and start rubbing it all over my face in ridiculous decorations, but I must remember my age. I am an adult. Not some nine year old girl.
Sighing, I withdraw, parched for a glass of water. My long desired soak could wait. The water was pouring in a slow rate anyways.
I leave the room and ransack her cabinets for a cup. After a ravenous search, I come across a plastic container, coming to the irritating realization that there were absolutely no glasses. Like Riza had taken the time and effort to baby proof the kitchen. I even check up on the silverware and find nothing but spoons and a couple of forks. A few cabinets were sealed tight. The stove, at my own personal experimentation, didn't even spark a flame.
The woman really took having a wounded guest seriously. A stubborn side of me hopes to encounter her with a fight about the matter, but my more intelligent side recalls the cold, warning stares she exchanged at the last minute of her departure, and thinks otherwise. It wasn't as if I had to have a warm snack or anything. So I go with my original destination and fill up the cup with sparkling, delicious water. Gulping it down, I momentarily let my mind wonder where my protective companion could have stored my belongings.
I do a brief check on the tub, hardly making any process, and determine it will take a while. So why not do a little snooping?
Thus the investigation for my stolen things commences.
I'm so pumped with determination, I don't hear the sound of a doorknob rattling.
First her bedroom. If anything proved to be suspicious and an ideal place for putting away treasured items, I guess her room would be a perfect starter. Gleefully, because I was quite the snooping cat and I loved these sorts of scavenger hunts, I professionally twist the knob, and grin at the lack of resistance. Music to my ears, the frame creaks and I limp inside, passing by her bed, just begging for me to sink in its plushness, and come across another door. Closet, I guess. I paw at the knob, wondering how observant Riza would be in returning home. If she knew I had been in here, would she be furious? I shudder. The room seemed to have quite the draft seeping in. Despite the windows being closed…
I thrust open the door, swinging back and forth between the racks of clothes. Or, more appropriately, uniforms. Rows and rows of dry cleaned, smelling of hundreds of toxins, uniforms. And just a couple feet up, lines and stacks of glinting, poised, dangerous guns. I slam the door, waiting out a weight of nausea. This woman was nuts. This woman was crazy. She had a hoarding problem with guns of all things. And to think I was sleeping this close to all this- ammunition.
I swallow, imagining the soldier walking in and seeing me going through her stuff. Her goods.
What followed in my imagination wasn't all too pretty, so I hobble as quickly as I can out, shutting the door with wide, alert eyes. My equipment could wait. It wasn't worth facing the wrath of Riza the sniper, Christ.
With a casual brush of my hair, falling into my eyes, I make my way back over to the bathroom. At the sight of the tub, I fail at muffling a gasp. Bubbles. So many damn bubbles.
I love bubbles.
Screw being mature. Being sure not to grab with my deadened arm, I snatch out a hand and collect a large, beautiful mass of suds, closing my fingers into a tight fist and watching in awe, the dots of smaller foamy, cutesy bubbles flying around. A few land on my face, and I relish in the pure wonderment of the moment. I hadn't encountered such sweet smelling suds in years.
Mom used to constantly bathe me in this when I was a young one. And god, I loved it.
I can't wait anymore! With bated breath, I find the strength to close the door I entered, cradling my numb shoulder. I'm trying to figure out just how I was going to shed out of my clothing, slowly peeling my shirt upwards to mid stomach, oblivious to someone clicking the front door open.
Well, this just was not going to work. With an exasperated grunt, I contemplate just diving in with my attire on. I take off my elbow material, walk over to the edge, and impatiently swing my feet over and into the bowl, my feet disappearing under the white beads of pure delight. I'd think of how to get undressed later. For now, I just want to absorb the soothing heat into my aching calves and mess around~
I scoop up a clump of bubbles, bringing it to my face and smelling it.
The door (I failed to notice there were two) I hadn't bothered locking, burst open.
The Colonel was standing with a stunned look, keys clutched in his hand.
I had snapped my head in the direction of the intrusion, keeping my sudsy hand where it was, blinking confusingly at Roy.
He doesn't bother to explore the room. Just stays motionless, staring at my baffled face.
We stare at each other, unsure of what we were supposed to say.
My brain, however, didn't seem sure how to shut up.
Sweet jesus. Holy crap. Close. Too close. What if I had managed getting out of my clothes? Then he would have just entered the room with me naked. And how did he even manage to get in here anyways? Riza refused to have him here, but oh my god we aren't saying anything why isn't anyone talking. This is the same bastard who fried your leg three years ago so it's simple, just yell at him or something. My god this is the longest anyone's ever not talked. Oh my dear lord please just say something anything just anything just say something. God. Why is he just standing there? Why is he staring at my face like that? What is going? Say something! Just say-!
"You…didn't knock…"
Why the hell did I bother talking? That was the stupidest thing you could have ever said, my god, now you're just-ugh what is wrong with you. What's wrong with me? Just maybe he'll leave. What the-
My thoughts were interrupted by the terrible sound of Roy, snorting then breaking into a fit of chuckles.
What?
"What- What the hell is so funny?! And why are you in here?! Get out!" I yell, seething with rage. Of all the people to come in and witness this. Of all the people in the entire city. Of all the people ever. Why him?!
He's not keeling over with a giggling fit, but it's pretty damn rude, his occasional hiccups of laughter. I'm just about to give him a real piece of inner rage until he suddenly points a finger at the mirror. Doesn't say anything. Just points. Thrown off guard, I take a glance at my reflection, and watch myself turn into three different shades of red.
At his grand entry, I had moved my head a bit too quickly from my full hand, taking with it a cluster of bubbles. And now I had that beautiful sudsy fashion statement of the year, all. Over. My. Face.
At my blushing cheeks, I catch movement and know Roy is coming closer. Still chuckling.
"That's-"
I don't hear the rest of his sentence as I throw out my palms, demanding he stay away, and forgetting of why I was in this apartment in the first place.
With a yelp, my hand flew to my shoulder, and the extra motion throws me off balance. And I tumble. Into the tub.
It's easy enough for me to pop back out, shaking away the soap in my eyes. My good hand wipes away droplets of water, and I'm looking at Roy, his own arms extended in a sense of trying to prevent my humiliating plunge. However, with his slow reflexes, he stood there, surprised, blinking, and wet. Apparently he had been close enough to the splash zone, dripping water to the bathroom floor. Riza's bathroom floor. Oh dear.
Riza was such a perfectionist. What would she do if she walked in now?
Never mind that! Roy was still in here, soaked, looking at me, sitting in a bubbly tub, also soaked, and looking back at him with conflicting shock and embarrassment.
Suddenly his mouth quivers.
I risk a glimpse at the mirror behind him and take in the goofy bits of bubbles covering my hair, face, neck, everything, with horror. Roy breaks into another fit of laughter, leaning back against the counter, trying to direct it to the side, covering his annoying sounds of delighted humor away from me. Not that it did any good. It all came back to the same conclusion: the bastard was laughing at me. And I can't freaking speak with this crap ton load of shame.
When he's calmed down enough to the occasional shake of his shoulders, he faces back towards me and tries falling into a more serious expression.
"Doesn't," he tries, stopping himself to swallow away a fighting smile. When he coughs, looking professional once again, he continues, "Doesn't one usually need to take off her clothes to fully enjoy a rejuvenating bath?"
He breaks down into a snort at my hardened expression.
"Doesn't," I spit, recovering enough of my spunk but still unable to pull myself out, because I couldn't. "Doesn't one usually knock before entering a bathroom in use?"
"Doesn't one usually lock the door when it's in use?" he retorts, shimmying out of his uniform jacket.
"What are you doing?" I say alarmed. He doesn't pause, flashing a smirk.
"Joining you, what else?"
Defensively, I push as far away from him as I can, ignoring the burning sensation crawling up my throat and sinking into my cheeks. "Hell no!" I shout, glaring at what now was simply a buttoned shirt. Thankfully, dry. So he doesn't strip any further. Roy chuckles, taking his dripping uniform and hanging it over the curtain bar, uncomfortably close to where I sat, water still rising up to my stomach. He shuts off the water for me, putting his hands onto the sides of the tub, leaning forward with a crooked sneer.
"Need a hand, bubbles?" he says snidely.
"Don't call me that," I argue, veins throbbing. This guy was unbelievable. "You can just stay the hell away from me."
Roy's smile slips for a moment, and becomes replaced with…sadness? But before I can wonder why he'd suddenly choose now to be hurt by my remark, it disappears and remains as a smirk. Slowly, he steps away, and starts to walk out.
"Bubbles?" he calls out before leaving. I tighten, firing a death glare into the back of his ruffled top. "If you need any assistance in shedding out of those wet clothes, I'll be in the next room." He says this, tossing a wink my way.
With that, he closes the door, leaving me screaming a series of swears.