Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist does not belong to me.
A/N: So to keep this alive (as I am wont to neglect stories of mine) and paced, I'm utilizing themes. They also keep me pretty inspired. In this drabble I'm using theme #63, Special Seat
At His Right
Military galas occasionally allowed bachelor officers to have a date accompany them, to help pace the organized steps of a waltz or foxtrot, or to share amused comments in ear or over clinking wineglasses.
Roy Mustang was one to take up that option, often seen having a grinning damsel's dainty hand pressed into the bend of his elbow as she glowed at the glower of other women. Being a date of the Colonel Mustang was an opportunity one could never pass up, never.
He entertained them throughout dinner, though they so quickly grew bored and inconvenienced during the military proceedings, wishing for the dancing part to hurry and start. Alas, it did, and Roy suavely led them in a flourishing quickstep, displaying groomed techniques the ladies surely received in etiquette school.
Others at the table would tolerate the loudness of his dates (for some had dates of their own), and those who gave special attention to Roy's date would have seen that she was seated to his left, just like his date before her and the date before that one. It gave the seating a slight imbalance, but it was soon forgone as laughter roused attention back to duty-filled dates.
When the ball was over, and the young women were spent in glamour and compliments (mainly envious stares), Roy brought them back home, wherein he duly bid them a good night with a chaste kiss on the cheek and turned to return to his own home, oblivious of the angry pouts glared in his direction and the grievances of his post-date charm.
He continued on, thinking beyond the crowding scent of perfume and pitchy giggles, into a musing of rougher hands and a stronger, but gentler, heart.
When the next ball came and required attendance of all officers, Riza Hawkeye would accompany her Colonel, by his side with a surveying eye. With no civilian women at their table, they all would openly discuss current matters, taking an intelligent measure of entertaining themselves. If Roy got up and gently pressed his hand in front of his First Lieutenant, no one minded as they watched him smoothly lead Riza across the dance floor.
Because they were busy contemplating the fact that she was seated at his right, as she always was.