Riza thought twice before continuing forward. She knew he would see her. But why should she care? They were inevitably going to meet at some point. It would do no good to prolong the painful event. She walked on, deliberately throwing back the hood of her cloak, keeping her eyes sullenly focused ahead on nothing in particular. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see his eyes widening in horror and confusion. She felt a faint surge of pride at his shock. Women were rare in the front lines of the bloody extermination.
The hatred was not missed in that first encounter. Riza made a point of letting him know how much she was disgusted with this entire battle and with herself for having volunteered as a worthy participant. And by the look in his eyes, she was sure he had not missed the message she was silently conveying to him. He was the reason she was here. This was his fault. Riza was too loyal for her own good and she knew that, but Mustang should have known better than to lead the blind into a place like this.
Riza's best quality had always been her worst downfall. As much as she cursed herself for it, she did not realize how great a loyalty she bore for the ones she loved and even the ones she did not. For years she had born the secrets and the delicate health of her father on her own. She had missed multiple opportunities to pursue her own success in life in sacrifice to her father. When he had died, it had only been natural for her to turn to his successor, Roy Mustang. Naively she had accepted Mustang's dreams and visions of glory and success as her own and followed him into the war. Had she known where this road really led, she would have stopped herself, maybe even stopped Mustang.
Yet even know when she faced the man, she could not articulate this. She hoped he would get the message eventually. Her accusatory questions must be giving him some sort of hint.
This isn't where we're supposed to be.
To her comfort, he did not seem wholly pleased with himself. His face was not as sickeningly arrogant or satisfied as some she had seen'. His face was grim, his brow firmly knit, and in his eyes resided the cold gleam of a man who's seen death too many times and has grown hardened to the harsh reality. But there was not the remotest sign of pleasure. Thank goodness. For the first time in years, Riza's fears began to slowly dissipate. Something about Mustang gave her a thin line of hope to cling to. Despite the bloody injustice of their actions, there was a way out of it all...
And if they survived through it all, she knew then and there that she would want to be at Mustang's back. Her conscience could rest, knowing that as much as she had been mistaken, she would not be completey disappointed in Roy Mustang.