A/N: This is actually based on a true story; I work at a campground, and every so often you get that one customer that just will not be happy unless they can yell at someone. Bonus points if you can find an actual quote from the manga in here!

I do not own FMA.

Angry Tears

The room was quiet, a perfect place to study . . . or catch a nap, as was the case with him. Stretched out on the squashy, dark green couch, a textbook dropped over his face, Roy was just drifting off when a sharp bzzz! split the air. He jumped at the sudden noise, pulling the book from his face to glare at the open doorway from the lounge into the store. That buzzer signalled that someone had entered.

Lying back to resume his interrupted rest, he sighed. Accompanying Riza to her job at the local hotel wasn't the most entertaining thing in the world, but it was an excuse to get out of the house, and when she was working until after dark like tonight, he felt better knowing she would get home safe in his company. Interruptions like that door buzzer would just have to be tolerated.

"I don't care!" an angry voice sounded from the store; a man's, deep and demanding. "I want to speak to the groundskeepers, right now!"

There was the quiet murmur of Riza's voice, saying something in return, too quietly for Roy to catch. Nap forgotten, he sat up just as she came through the door into the lounge with a stiff back, and too-calm-to-be-real expression. Her hands, he noticed, curled into fists as soon as she was out of her irate customer's sight.

"Everything okay?"

"Just fine." Her tone was clipped, not out of anger, but in a 'don't bother me right now' sort of way. She was a girl on a mission, and Roy knew full well not to mess with her once she got that way. Pulling open the door to the employee break room, she disappeared inside.

Curiosity getting the better of him, Roy got to his feet, sauntering casually toward the store. Flipping open his book, he came through the door like nothing was wrong, glancing up idly at the others present. A small, thin man with glasses stood near the register, eyeing the store's other occupants warily: a clearly irritated woman with pulled-back dark blonde hair, and a man who towered at least half again Roy's height, with a bulk that seemed half-fat, half-muscle. Clearly, he was the one who had an issue with the groundskeepers.

There were only two aisles in the store; Roy turned down one without a word, occupying himself with studying the merchandise there. The tiny sundries shop sold any number of things one might forget to bring with them in their travels: razors, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and the like. There was also a small but highly diverse snack section, in case anyone passing through had the munchies at some point during their stay.

Within a minute, Riza came back through the door, moving around behind the counter again. Roy stayed out of sight as she took up her usual position, her back to him, and addressed the angry couple. "I've spoken to the groundskeeper you have an issue with, and —"

"Well, where is he?" the large man demanded, dark eyes glaring at the young woman before him. "Is he coming out here, or what?"

"At the moment, I'm going to call the hotel manager, and have him come down to mediate the discussion." Roy had to give her credit; she was calm and polite, though she didn't have much reason to be. "When he arrives, he'll take you back to speak with the groundsman. One moment."

Picking up a handheld radio, she brought it to her mouth. "Robert, come in, please." A handful of seconds went by before she tried again, still with no answer.

Finally the radio crackled to life. "Riza, it's Marcus. You're trying to find Robert for something?" Roy rolled the name over in his mind for a moment before remembering that Marcus was the valet out front.

"I have a customer at the store that would like to speak with him." Riza was watching out the large bay window behind her counter, no doubt in eye contact with Marcus across the wide courtyard of the hotel. "If you see him around, could you send him over to me, please?"

"Sure thing. Everything copacetic over there?"

"It will be," she said, shortly. Setting the radio down, she reached for the telephone.

"Well?" The large man demanded. Roy couldn't help but let his eyes narrow a little. How dare he get so impatient with Riza; she was doing her best to help him, couldn't he see that?

"It doesn't appear as though the manager has his radio with him; I'll try him in his suite, and see what happens," she explained, picking up the receiver. "If you could wait by the door, so that others can come and go, please?" She dialled, not watching as the man and his . . . wife? . . . stepped to one side as requested.

Riza was still for several long seconds, listening, before finally hanging up without saying a word. She paused for another moment, her posture telling Roy that she was thinking hard. Finally, she turned toward her burly customer, and he saw the side of her face.

His chest seemed to constrict in worry. Her face was set in a perfect deadpan, neither polite nor impolite, sympathetic or hostile. She only ever put that face on when she knew there would be trouble. "Sir, I can't seem to get hold of my manager. If you like, you can tell me your side of the story, and I'll have the manager come to you as soon as he's available."

Roy took the opportunity to slip out of the room, though he only stood to one side of the door. The large man was far from calmed down, even in the amount of time he'd been left to his devices. "My boy was playing with some other kids in the courtyard, decided it'd be fun to climb a tree. There's nothing saying he can't do that, but the groundsman gave him trouble for it anyway! He singled my boy out unfairly, not any of the other kids!" There was a huff. "I don't expect you to understand, but you will when you have kids of your own, little girl —"

He nearly choked. Riza? With kids? Somehow, that image didn't fit, but the man was still ranting. "I want that man talked to, and I want some kind of restitution for all my trouble! I don't care whether he loses pay, or whether I get the rest of my stay for free, or what! I paid good money to come here, and if you people can't make it the best damn stay I've ever had then —"

"Sir, I don't appreciate —"

"Don't speak," the man snapped. "I'm the one speaking here!"

Riza's voice rose in volume just slightly, still glacially calm. "I don't appreciate your tone," she said firmly. "If you'll tell me your room number, I'll have the manager come to see you as soon as he gets in. Until then, I have to ask you to leave."

"Fine. Room forty. Make sure he gets the message." The phone rang just as heavy steps went out the main door; there was a click as Riza picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" A pause. "Yes, Marcus, that's him leaving. Do you mind if I call you back? I still have work I need to take care of . . . . All right. Thank you." Another click as she set the receiver down, and then she was apologizing to the reedy man who'd no doubt witnessed the entire incident first-hand.

Roy shook his head. Riza often came home with a story about an unhappy customer, but he'd never imagined it could get this bad. She had courage, he had to admit; someone of her slight stature going up against a hulk like what's-his-face . . . . He briefly registered the sound of someone else leaving, and then footsteps moving into the back storeroom.

Riza was alone now; he glanced briefly back at the couch, wondering whether or not she would get after him for going to check on her . . . . Ultimately, he decided, making sure she was all right trumped any possibility of her skeptical looks and comments about him being a worrywart.

Re-entering the store, he slipped almost silently across to the door into the back, peering around the edge . . . and froze. She was busily organizing the shelves, as a good employee would, but the telltale tracks of moisture down her face set his blood on fire. He stepped inside, not bothering with a 'hello.'

"What did he do?" he demanded, dark eyes locked on the blonde-haired form that whirled to face him. "I swear, if he touched you —"

"He didn't!" Riza's voice cracked, just a little; she swallowed hard, then tried again. "I'm okay, just . . . . I'm just as angry as you are, believe me."

Roy frowned. ". . . So you're crying?"

Those whisky-brown eyes rolled in exasperation. "Sometimes, if I get mad enough about something, I cry, okay? It just happens. Right now, I'm mad that that idiot had the gall to come in and accuse Johnathan of something so stupid, and take it out on me when he couldn't yell at the person he wanted! I thought that by getting him to talk, he'd calm down, but it only made it worse and —"

"Sshhhhhh. Settle down." Setting his book on the shelf, Roy folded his arms around her in a hug. "It's over now," he said quietly into the short strands of her hair. "He won't be coming back any time soon. You just have to get hold of your boss and send him to deal with it. It's okay. Some people just don't appreciate good customer service."

"Tell me about it." She was quiet for a moment, pressing close against him, just grateful for a human presence that was comforting and familiar. Finally, she murmured, "I saw you in there when it all started. Where did you disappear to? Don't tell me you watched that whole scene?"

Roy winced. "I was right outside the door, just in case you needed me. I didn't think you would, not with that look on your face." He smiled. "If that guy had come over the counter at you, I think you would've decked him in one hit."

Her shoulders shook with a small laugh. "Thanks for the vote of confidence." She was silent for another moment. "And . . . thanks for this."

"Anytime."

"Riza?" A new voice called from out in the store; male, older, and obviously concerned. "Riza, where are you?"

She pushed away, wiping hurriedly at her eyes. "That's Robert. I'll be right back."

"I'll be waiting." He watched her leave, his heart swelling in pride. The girl might be small, but she was a right firecracker when she wanted to be. And he wouldn't have it any other way.

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