When Roy Mustang found himself in a small room with nothing but a desk and chair, and what appeared to be paperwork littered across the top of the desk, he didn't let it bother him too much. Perhaps he had taken a wrong turn somewhere, but he wasn't one to worry.
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Of course there would be more paperwork )
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Then he realized what he meant to ask and stopped short. What could the other man say to that, whatever he really thought? Certainly not "Why, I'd burn and pillage and rape and I'd love every minute." People didn't say that. Of course there were certain people Gustav hadn't met yet. "Forget it. Where did you want?"
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"Where do I- Ah, you must mean which house," Roy said, lifting his hand to run through his hair. "One of my subordinates voted me to Slytherin, but gave little explanation as to why. Wherever you think is best is fine."
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The last applicant he'd voted there, when he was extremely new to Hogwarts, had been on the basis of a mental leap to the effect of Slytherin equaling shifty like Dycedarg Beoulve. But there was more than one kind of cunning, he figured, and Gustav was aware now of how different people in one House could be (especially given that he was sharing one with Dycedarg's brother Zalbag).
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