Riza had never been there before, but was still very sure of what she wanted. She ordered a black coffee and said she didn't want anything else. Roy had gone with the intent to buy a drink with an actual name (and maybe breakfast- he still hadn't eaten) but was suddenly self-conscious and bought the same thing. They were only 70 cenz each, so he wasn't complaining.

The coffee was unbelievably strong and as thick as tar. High quality stuff. It made him want to jump out of his skin. Riza, as always, looked unfazed.

"So," he began, a moment or so after they had settled into a small table under the yellow and white striped awning of the café, "what are you reading?"

She passed him the books, eyes trained on his face to study his reaction.

His expectations had been wildly incorrect. Despite her demeanor, Roy figured she must be reading something more fitting a young girl. Maybe a romance, a drama, a mystery- anything else other than Trench Warfare: A Collection of Methods, Practical Disarmament and Defense, and Combat Theory in the Middle Ages. He turned the covers over once or twice to ensure their authenticity. "Military strategy texts? This is your light reading?"

Riza shrugged. "It interests me."

"Are you planning a coup?" he asked, only half-joking.

She closed her eyes and turned her head down a bit but he could tell she smiled, genuinely. "Not yet," she said, almost laughing, a small lilt forming in her voice.

"I hope you'll count me on your side."

"Why? Are you planning a coup?" She raised an eyebrow and took a sip from her mug.

"Not yet."

"Very funny."

"I like to think so."

She smiled again and pulled her books back to her, setting them in a neat pile. "And you?"

"And I what?"

"What do you read?"

Roy crossed his legs under the table and propped his chin in his hands. Riza still sat rigidly, though her face had lost some of its edge. "Mostly the same stuff, actually. Don't tell your father."

Her expression didn't change at the mention of Master Hawkeye and Roy was somewhat relieved. "I won't."

"Wouldn't he be upset if he found out if you were reading this stuff?" He picked up one of the books, disrupting the nice arrangement, and waved it in her face for extra effect. She didn't take the bait.

"Father is disinterested in what I do. If he does find out, I'll tell him it's for a school project." She took another sip of coffee. Damn, she was impenetrable. Or she has nothing to hide, he thought briefly.

Roy had never been patient. Even with his mother's word of advice still ringing in his ear, he pressed on. Leaning in close, he nearly whispered his question to her.

"Are you and your father, y'know, okay?"

Riza blinked. "Pardon?"

"He's not-" Roy glanced down at the table, gathering courage somehow from looking at the checked tablecloth. "He's not hurting you, is he?"

There was a long pause, and he looked back up at her. She didn't look upset. She looked thoughtful, almost, like she was running possible answers through her mind. "No," she said, simply. It was without sharpness, and it almost surprised him. "Why do you ask?"

Roy felt his face flush. He had not thought this through very well. All of the scenarios he had constructed in his mind had her telling him yes, or had her defensively denying it in ways that confirmed his suspicion. He had assumed she would say yes and he wouldn't have to tell her how he knew or why he knew or anything- he had planned to be a hero, not an idiot. His throat went tight with embarrassment. "You don't seem to get along, is all."

If Riza suspected that there was another reason, she didn't question him further, and he was grateful. She nodded quietly and played with the handle on her mug. "It's hard without a mother."

It didn't help Roy that much in deciphering the riddle that was her personality, but he understood what she meant and why she mentioned it. He was beginning to discover that Riza left a lot unsaid. Maybe if he listened hard enough, all the silent dialogue would make sense. "I don't have a father," he replied. It was supposed to be reassuring, but instead she just looked interested. He continued. "Well, I sort of don't have a mother either. They both died when I was young."

She sat quietly. Roy had expected some sort of apology to come from her. Everyone wanted to apologize for dead parents. But she had been through it too, all the condolences from people that never knew her mother that for some reason longed to take some sort of responsibility by saying I'm sorry for the deaths of a stranger. She just looked at him, encouraging him to continue with a silent calm that was oddly comforting.

"The engine blew up in their car. We got some compensation from the company that made it. I live with my aunt, now. It's nice. I don't mind."

"Hmmm."

"What?"

"Nothing."

She was looking out at the people in the square. The sun was above most of the buildings now and everything was awash with sunlight, even under most of the awning. It occurred to Roy he had never seen Riza outside of the house before. She looked pretty. "What's she like?"

"What is who like?"

"Your aunt."

He made a face. "Hell on wheels."

She laughed and moved her arms from her lap onto the table. She brushed part of her hair from her face and Roy smiled.

They ended up talking about lots of things. The more Roy talked, the more Riza smiled, and the more she talked. By noon, they had placed themselves directly next to each other facing the square and developed a game where one would select an individual and the other would make up a story about them. Riza was much funnier than he expected her to be, and her almost perfect deadpan only enhanced the effect. By one, they were both starving and Roy bought lunch for them both, with Riza promising to repay him for all expenses even with his assurances that it was entirely his treat.

"We've been here for five hours," Riza remarked at two thirty.

Roy blushed. "Oh. Yeah."

"We should get going."

He offered to carry her books to her house but she politely declined and thanked him for the nice morning (and early afternoon.) He walked with her for a bit anyway, though the Hawkeye residence was the opposite direction from his house.

"Don't tell father what you asked me." She said, a few blocks from the formal outskirts of the city.

"About the books?"

She frowned.

"Oh, that."

Riza looked at her feet. "It's good for him to have someone interact with him during the day. I don't want you to give him a reason to dismiss you."

She really was pretty, even in the dumpy outfit she wore. Her skirt went down to her ankles and her blouse was buttoned up to the very top, even with the warm weather. No one would give a second glance if she waltzed into a nunnery, he imagined, though her age might give her away. "Well, I have to save face if he's ever going to teach me flame alchemy, right?"

For a second she looked like she had something to tell him, but Riza closed her mouth as soon as she opened it. "Well, I'll be seeing you, Mr. Mustang."

"Roy."

"Right."

"Don't orchestrate any coups without me."

Riza pursed her lips to hide another smile. "Same to you."

He watched her walk away for a bit, and he wished she had let him walk with her. Why the hell was she so silent all the time? He liked her company when she actually spoke to him more than he would like to admit. She was, after all, only fifteen, and he didn't like the thought of hanging out with people so much younger than him. Three years wasn't all that much, but she was in her first year of high school and social doctrines dictated that talking to freshman was definitively uncool, especially when he had already graduated.

Roy glanced at his watch. Almost 3:30. Shit. He had to be back to open the shop at five for the weekend crowd. He needed to start working on prep by four. If he ran, he could make it. Cursing under his breath for not being more attentive to the time, he began his journey home, somewhat disappointed he hadn't eaten more at lunch.

Riza closed and locked the door to her house at four. It was silent, as usual, except for the humming of the refrigerator. It had rained the day before and her shoes were muddy, so she left them next to the welcome mat that was far too faded to offer greetings anymore. Quietly, she ascended the steps and entered her room, placed her books on her bed, and sat, tracing the quilted pattern of her blanket. She didn't feel like reading. Saturday was always the day when her father updated his notes. He liked to do it while the sun was still up because the lamps didn't illuminate as well as he wished they would.

"Riza? Are you home?" he called from his study.

"Yes," she replied.

Master Hawkeye shuffled over in his house slippers and observed her from the door. She didn't move except for her finger, which continued to follow the stitched diamonds.

"Where did you go?"

"The library."

"All day?"

"Yes." Her expression was dark again, and she silently dared him to question her. He didn't. He never did.

"Come to the study when you're ready."

"Okay."

He left and Riza pressed her eyes shut. She was used to it now, the low buzz of the needle and the red ink that looked like blood before it was dry. He used red because he could tell exactly how the design would look as he was inking it. He was very practical that way.

The first time was on her fifteenth birthday. Two years prior menarche had occurred and he was fairly positive that whatever growth spurts she would have now would not drastically affect the design. There had been a great deal of consideration beforehand, and the thought was revolting. The first session was the worst, because he had to put all his research he had accumulated until then onto his canvas. It took hours. Now it was mostly little additions. They took about twenty minutes or so. She used to cry. In retrospect, she felt lucky that it had never been as bad as it was the first time. Everything hurt less now, because she could anticipate it.

Riza forced herself off of the bed and walked down the hallway.

Monday came slowly. Roy had, of course, been late coming home on Saturday and was forced to clean the kitchen all Sunday as punishment. With the exception of breaks for the bathroom and food, he was banned from leaving his room for the rest of the day. Needless to say, the end of his weekend sucked. For the first time in a while, he was looking forward to going to Hawkeye's place.

Out of pure boredom, he had gone to bed early the night before, and subsequently woke up too early the next morning. On a normal schedule, he would get up at six to be on time for lessons at seven thirty. It was almost four now, and Roy knew he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. With a groan he pulled his blankets over his head and considered moping in his bed for the next two hours.

After ten minutes or so of lying thoughtlessly in darkness he figured that there was something more productive he could be doing with his time, and he turned on his side lamp. He stared lazily around his room, hoping for a source of entertainment to come to him. The bookshelf seemed inviting and he rolled out of bed and approached it, thumbing through titles of adventure novels that he still had from his old house. He tossed a few on the floor and picked up a more recent acquisition about state-issued firearms. He flipped the first couple of pages and set it aside, too. Nothing else looked interesting. He went back to the book on firearms. It was mostly diagrams, snippets about how various models differed from one another and the best situations to use them. It was broken down into sections, first by combat versus day-to-day usage such as self-defense, and then by chapters that divided the weapons by size. He remembered telling Riza that he read a lot on this sort of stuff (which was mostly true) and figured she might like it. Next time he ran into her he would arrange to let her borrow it.

It was about 4:30 now, and Roy decided he would try sleeping again.

Usually no one answered the door when he went to the Hawkeye residence. Master Hawkeye had given him his own key so he could come and go as he pleased but he never abused the privilege and the door was almost always unlocked anyway. When he ascended the steps today, however, someone opened before he even knocked.

"Good morning, Riza," he said, smiling.

Riza hoisted her book bag onto her back. "Hi."

"Headed to school?"

She was looking past him, outside. Her lips were pursed and she looked like she was in a hurry. "Yeah."

"Y'know, I have a book that you might be interested in-"

Riza cut him off with a look that clearly said not now and with a harsh and almost silent goodbye she pushed her way past him out to the path to school. He frowned and watched her leave as he stepped into the door.

"Roy, is that you?" a voice called from upstairs.

"I'm here, Master Hawkeye."

"Oh, good."

Roy ascended the stairs and sat down in the study in his usual spot in the corner, by a window next to the fireplace. Master Hawkeye was still scribbling away in some text. "I had a wonderful discovery over the weekend, you know, Roy. Very exciting. I added it to my permanent collection immediately and marked it in several backup copies. Yes, I think it will vastly improve the accuracy of aiming and channeling fire."

"Oh?" Roy feigned excitement, though he knew the Master would not be telling him what exactly he had discovered, neither today nor tomorrow nor the day after that.

"Yes, but of course it will only make sense in context of other knowledge, which you are not yet prepared for."

"Of course," he replied, rolling his eyes. The grandfather clock in the study ticked away as Master Hawkeye kept on with his notes. "Riza left early today," he said nonchalantly, running his finger along the sill of the window, picking up dust. He never cleaned the place. "Doesn't school begin at eight thirty?"

"She said she had something to work on."

"Ah." Roy pressed his forehead to the window and waited for Master Hawkeye to finish writing.

Waving the paper in the air, Master Hawkeye accelerated the drying of the red ink, indicating that he was finally done. "Now," he began, setting down the paper and reaching for another book. "On to the lesson."

Shorter chapter this time. Please review! :)