A/N: so this chapter might be shorter than my others...
it suddenly occurred to me that, while I may have tons of what Roy and Riza do when it's raining, I hadn't described what the subordinates do. Hence, this chapter.
and it's been forever since I've updated, hasn't it? I hope this chapter's worth the wait
The Joys of Hosting
During days like this, Fuery firmly wished that his apartment was not the Animal Refugee Committee Meeting Center of Eastern Amestris.
Days like this, he thought to himself, should be spent indoors. When the weather was so dreadfully wet, so entirely muddy, everyone, working or otherwise, should curl up under a blanket and read. Have friends over. Eat turkey.
…As if.
Currently juggling about seven empty and three unopened bottles of the cheapest beer, Fuery tripped into the kitchen, trying not to step on any spare paws. Jeers and boos from his pathetically small 'living room' erupted and he could hear popcorn, hats, marshmallows, chicken legs, chips, and other strange concoctions being tossed at the radio. It was soccer season and East City was losing. Badly.
"Newbie—more booze!"
"I agree."
"Kid, if you don't get this puppy off me…"
"Booze!"
"Seconded."
"Scram!"
"NO! THEY SCORED AGAIN!"
"Mew!"
"AGH!!! GET THIS PUPPY OFF!!"
"Lt. Breda, that is a cat."
"Oh…"
"Lighten up, Falman. We're off duty. Booze?"
"Coming!" the exhausted youth called from the door of his kitchen/bathroom (the combination made no sense to the tenants; only the builder). He tossed the numerous bottles into the sink, not bothering to sort them.
Whatever happened to curling up with a good book, anyways?
"Booze!"
"Coming!"
Then, as the young officer grabbed ten or so more beverages, the unthinkable happened.
The radio went silent.
"WHAT?!! NO, NO, NO!! THERE'S ONLY THREE MINUTES LEFT IN THE GAME!! YOU CAN'T STATIC OUT!!! NO!!!" Havoc began to shout at the sad appliance.
Falman began digging around for wires; Breda stopped panicking about the kitten and moved on to bigger fish. Fuery handed out the (now even more) needed drinks. Mumbled curses came from the radio stand as Havoc and Falman fished around for more cables. Their host sank, exhausted, into a recliner.
"Newbie, come help! Isn't this your area of expertise?" Havoc called; a small crash echoed as the military officer knocked over a vase.
Fuery closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. "No, there's nothing I can do. The station's out, thanks to the storm. It's not the radio—it's the wavelength that's the problem."
"Okay…so, now what?" Falman asked while Havoc simply gawked at the thought of no soccer score updates.
Breda scratched the cat in his lap absentmindedly (the predicament causing him to temporarily forget his fear of pets). The feline immediately began purring. "Poker?"
"I'm in."
"Game. What's the limit?"
"I'll go get the cards…" Fuery staggered off to find his deck of cards. He was beginning to hate this routine of skipping work every time it rained. Honestly, what the Lt. Colonel and Lt. Hawkeye were doing without them…
(which is another story)
He returned to a very strange scene, considering he'd been gone for thirty seconds. Within that very small amount of time, his 'guests' had somehow managed to find, and set up, a poker table, a hanging lamp, a neon sign, and four fold-out chairs.
Breda and Havoc were even handing out cigars. To think, his mother had made him join the military to become more disciplined…
Fuery didn't question—he just sat down at his designated seat. One eventually got used to the antics of the military unit. Instant set-ups were just one among many hidden skills.
His favorite calico cat (named Tailess for obvious reasons) crashed the poker games no less than seven times. Each time the kitty had to be picked up, placed on the ground, scolded, then shooed. Each time, the chips somehow managed to end up scattered in Breda's favor. Each time, Falman miraculously got the best winning hand EVER. Each time, Havoc yelled at Falman until they decided to redo the round.
By the tenth game, the host had fallen asleep. By the eighteenth game, Breda had oddly 'lost his wallet'. By the twenty-first game, Falman claimed it was too boring to play one-on-one with Havoc. By the thirtieth game, Havoc had played nine straight games with a cat, and the whiskered one was the winner of each one.
By the thirtieth game, Fuery had the richest cat in EHQ, East City's soccer team had lost by a record-setting amount, and Fuery's apartment sink had managed to catch fire.
Oh, and it stopped raining. Fancy that.
A/N: lol; poor Fuery.
Review please?
only one more chapter to go before this ficlet is finished...