Riza crept up to the side of Roys bed and stared at him for a second. He was snoring and drooling which made him infinitely less charming. "Hey. You should get up," she poked him.
Roy sat up, startled. "Oh uh... I just knocked out, didn't I?" he ruffled his bangs into an artful mess. "Is your father about?"
"I heard him stirring upstairs. Didn't want you to be ambushed just waking up from a nap," she said.
"Very thoughtful. I am hoping not to make a fool of myself," he rubbed his eyes and straightened his shirt. "How do I look?"
"Just as smarmy as when you arrived," Riza teased. "I'll wait with you by the stairs. He'll probably be down any second."
Roy swung his legs over the edge of the bed and turned to face her. They were practically nose to nose which sort of discouraged him. They were in that awkward phase where she was well into her growth spurt and he had yet to hit his, besides Roy didn't have much hope of ever being spectacularly tall. His mild dismay was apparent. "Smarmy?"
A rare smirk crossed her usually stony face. "Mhmm," she turned on her heel and started down the hall. Roy trailed behind her, his dismay fading to a fond smile.
They spent about five minutes loitering by the stairs before there was a creek at the top of the stairs. Roy snapped to attention like a soldier- Riza examined her nails.
"He isn't what I expected," Berthold croaked as he descended.
"Younger?" Roy asked.
Well, yes. "Shorter," The older gentleman said.
"I'm still growing, sir," Roy said, hastily. "Still growing, really?" he thought, incredulous at how juvenile he sounded.
Berthold reached the bottom of the stairs. "The old man didn't tell me I would be teaching a child." He wouldn't use his late wife's fathers name. He harbored too much resentment for him for his attachment to the military.
"I'm not a child, I'm fifteen next week," Roy protested, though he was doing a piss poor job of sounding grown up. "If you take a moment to set aside your prejudgments I assure you I will prove to be an astute learner and a worthy apprentice sir."
"I'm sure you will... Riza have you fed him?" Riza nodded, notably silent now, in the presence of her father. "Good. Mister Mustang, come to my study we can discuss your studies in private."
Roy's eyes darted back to Riza, checking her demeanor. She gave him a nod as if to say, "Worry not, I'll see you later."
Berthold slammed a heavy door and collapsed into a chair next to a large wooden desk. It was covered in loose papers and open books.
Roy glanced around the dimly lit room, taking it all in. "I'd like to thank you, sir, for allowing me to learn from you."
The old man grunted. "You'll call me Master Hawkeye. Pull up a chair." Roy complied. "Before we begin to discuss alchemy we need to go over my house rules."
"Of course."
"Breakfast is at 7:00am sharp, if you miss it you'll have to go without. You should keep your space tidy and make your bed in the morning. It's important that you respect this house. I expect in my study by 7:30. I'm an old man so there are days where I need more rest but that's not an excuse for you to slack- If I'm unwell you will organize my notes, study independently, or do chores I lay out for you- say walking to town to collect elements necessary for transmutations." Master Hawkeye scrutanized Roy. His youth troubled him, so close to Riza's age. "Finally I expect you not to be distracted and not to distract my daughter. She'll be focused on her schooling." Berthold didn't want his most dangerous research getting into the wrong hands.
Roy's face almost fell but snapped back to attention and nodded, ever the professional. "Of course sir."
"I won't be spoken to like you're some dog of the military. I'm not you're commanding officer. You're my apprentice. It's Master Hawkeye," the old man chided.
"I'm sorry Master Hawkeye. Habit."
"Habits are made to be broken, Mr. Mustang. You'll have to put a lot of work into changing your habits and your way of thinking in order to truly grasp alchemy," he flipped through a ragged notebook and landed on a page. "Hoe much do you understand of the basics of alchemy?"
"I'm well read on the structure of the four elements. I recently read Degenhardt's text on Aether-" Roy began.
"Degenhardt was a hack and a fool. A man can wax philosophically about heavenly bodies for years but what use is it if he never innovates any tangible science? Degendhardt was a glorified theist and far too absorbed, like many, by searching for philosophers stones. You'd do well to forget that swill," Berthold interrupted.
"I-" It took the young apprentice a moment to regain his footing in the conversation, jarred by his masters harsh rejection of his knowledge. "I've done my reading on physics and understand the basic energies that command the universe. My teachers were all extremely impressed by my grasp on chemistry. I'm beginning to understand the principles of Transmutation- Comprehension, deconstruction, reconstruction."
"I don't need your entire background," Berthold said. He glanced across his desk and fingered an old book. He picked it up and threw it at Roy. "An alchemist is nothing if he can't draw the most basic of transmutation circles. I want you to go through that book and copy them yourself and then I want you to draw as many as you can from memory. We don't have much time to night so it will be a fine challenge to have you ready for tomorrow."
Roy hugged the heavy book to his chest. "Thank you, Master Hawkeye."
Master Hawkeye dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Now leave me, I have my own research to do."