Disclaimer: FMA belongs to Arakawa Hiromu
Notes: Sorry this is late. I was planning on posting this as I got ready for work, but then I found out work started an hour earlier than I thought and managed to rush through and only be half an hour late . . . Another one will still be posted tonight (my tonight) instead of setting it all back, so never fear!
Thirty-two: Shirt
The office was sweltering, once again, just as it had been the day before last, and the day before that. The windows had been pushed open to encourage a breeze, but not even a wisp of air seemed to move. In their seats, various officers groaned as they did or didn't do their work. Breda's uniform jacket no longer hung open to accommodate his belly, but was now slung across the back of his chair. Havoc had rolled his sleeves up, and even Hawkeye had unbuttoned the stiff blue jacket they each wore. Mustang leaned forwards, slouching over his desk rather than falling against his chair and risking his shirt sticking to his sweaty back.
"How can you not be boiling?" Havoc asked Hawkeye in a moan.
She looked up from the paper she had been working on, confused. "I assure you, I am." The sweat on her forehead seemed to agree.
"Yet you're still wearing your jacket, and you have a skivvy on underneath it besides," he insisted, taking solace in his own cotton business shirt.
Waving his hand with a heat-induced laze, Mustang abandoned the drawing he had been doodling at for the past ten minutes. "Her choice what to wear, whether it boils her or not."
Havoc looked back down at his own papers. "Still, just thinking about wearing that makes me feel hot."