Summary: At the right angle, in a line of sight, one might wonder why he never stopped staring at her for so much as a second.

Theme: 077. Implicit Rules

Disclaimer: If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, it'd still be going.

Angles

077. Implicit Rules

"Do not let me run."

Riza has dirt-and-blood eyes that scream of sin. The kind of thick mud you would get caught in, or churn the ashes of a friend into. She would walk into a fire just to see if he would let her, burn down her home because he wanted it to be so. Roy does not care. He likes the way she purposely misses trains to walk with him to the station with the Elric siblings, and when she smells of rain because she is the only one of them who could stand in it and live.

"You cannot kill her."

She is just a run of the mill swordswoman, but even they have a few petty tricks up their sleeves nowadays. Not that she cares. She was the kind of woman who would stare into the gates of Hell and laugh because anything coming out of them thought it could get to him; no matter if she was crying and screaming and terrified because that was not what mattered right then. It was only a matter of practicality.

"It will do Olivier some good to get hit at least once."

He smirks over her shoulder as the woman across the mound of Earth waits for the attack. Today she is hesitant. Normally the other blonde would cut off a few fingers, or crush a few hearts even without her sword – but Riza is an exception to the rules. She would set things in stone, made implicit rules to protect the country where there were none; and even though he is the one in the gilded seat Olivier is smart enough to know which one of them is really the person who keeps things running. The one who makes everything fit.

"You are jealous."

He jokes. He feels the muscles in her back tighten as he pauses a fraction closer. He has always known how to break down Hawkeye – the only one who knows how to make her calm façade disappear completely – and no matter how accusatory she becomes, he will never admit to enjoying it.

"Why would I be?"

He lowers his head to her shoulder lovingly, as she enjoys her dog to do. He feels her twitch like lightning under him at the small instigation of contact. It is pseudo-intimate things like this that keep her in a state of not entirely trusting him enough to see her defenseless. If Olivier was really the enemy, her head would be blown off before she could instigate even the slightest bit of a connection.

"Because I sent her flowers, and not you."

He is only vaguely aware of the gun under his neck when the cold metal scrapes against his skin and Olivier walks away from the challenge as if that was what she expected all along. She is the only person who could get away with this. If anyone else held a gun to his head, they would be dead by now. Maybe it is natural charm, or that she is aware of how well she shoots; but he prefers to believe it is because she is the only one who could ever get close enough.

"You sent her flowers?"

Otherwise named 'Roy putting his foot in it, as usual.'

Yeah, so the preview went out of the window this time; and they are removing themselves henceforth. I keep losing what I've started and getting new and better ideas. I apologise.

Reviews & criticism greatly appreciated.