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: 086. Syllogism
Disclaimer: I do not own Full Metal Alchemist.
Angles
086. Syllogism
In preparation they train, shadows moving in perfect symmetry.
And when the dust clouds fade she always stands battered and aching but grinning, beautiful and alive. They have nothing to protect anymore. The city thrives by itself; the rebuilding work goes along with no problems except for the occasional bout of rain. But still they fight, although they do not know for what. There is nothing more to defeat, nothing more to kill and sacrifice for safe politics and the harmless people he stands for. They are the last ones standing this time around.
"What now, Hawkeye?"
Her hair spins, the shadow barely touching his but the connection still there. The fire narrowly misses the spun gold locks. Not one singed hair. The barrel of her gun scrapes his chin. He has always loved sparring with her. For all her rules and absolution, she fought spitefully; and he preferred it this way. She said it was to prepare him for whatever was coming. Personally, he knew it was her way of getting him back for all the paperwork he had dumped on her over the years and was still sending her way.
"You lose, Mustang."
She moves to pull the trigger of the empty gun, and he jolts backwards to the ground, pulling her legs to take her with him. That would have been her win if not for that. She lands awkwardly, and he is better prepared for the landing. In one movement she lands face first in the soft sand of the military training room, and he is above her, hand burning the back of her neck. She squirms uncomfortably. She does not like it when he gets this close, let alone touches her. This brings them to a stalemate which she begrudges strongly.
"I think not. Although I appreciate this view."
He grins as she rolls over. She is without a doubt the only woman he has ever though of as truly attractive. She has the cold, aristocratic beauty of her lineage but it has been softened greatly by her common mother and the pain her father has caused her. Unfortunately, she does not seem to ever notice the way he looks at her; and this is confirmed when instead of getting another gun to his chin she smacks him barehand; a hard punch for a woman so much smaller than him. He slumps ungracefully, and she pulls herself from beneath him as though it is not worth her time. Dusting her clothes down lightly, she grins in victory. She knows the affect she has on him, although she would never dare to act on it.
It is too bad that he forgets how much she hates losing.
Roy can take a beating, of this I am sure. He has probably been on the receiving end of a few smacks more times in his story than most.
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