Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu
Notes: Sometimes, for the themes I post at night, I don't realise I haven't posted them until really late, and sort of jump when I remember. Tonight was a big jump XD Mainly because I'm tired, rather than actual lateness, I think. This one's another I'm fond of.
Twenty-seven: Dependency
It was a slow day. Work was getting done at snail's pace, conversation was in abundance, and cigarette smoke hung around Havoc's desk in a way in which it was never usually permitted. Although, reasoned Havoc as he lit up his fourth cigarette of the hour, it wouldn't be good for this to happen every day, otherwise nothing would get done. He shook his packet of cigarettes lightly, just to remind himself there were more there for later, and put them in his top pocket, reminding himself to listen to the story Breda was telling.
Mustang had been working furiously at his desk, but chanced to look up at that moment. "Havoc," he snapped. "Two a day was the rule. Leave the rest for outside the office."
Glumly, Havoc started putting the cigarette out carefully. "Yes, boss." He inspected his work, and tucked it back in its box, having deemed its condition was good enough that it could feasibly be smoked later.
"The Colonel's been irritated all day," Falman said during their break. "Did something happen?"
Breda snorted through a mouthful of mashed potato and swallowed before he could choke on it. "Didn't notice Hawkeye's not at work today?"
"Well, yes, I-" Falman started.
"He's dependent on her," Havoc interrupted, fork-in-mouth. He grinned. "She's like his drug."
Breda laughed again, and pointed towards Havoc's top pocket. "I guess you'd know."