Fic: Modern Woman
Title: Modern Woman
Word Count: 488
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Riza
Summary: Riza attempts to buy a gun.
A/N: This was originally written for this week's fma_fic_contest's prompt, quiver, but it went over the limit by about 200 words, sooooo... posting it here. Yes. In other news, my fic listing can be found here if you're interested in reading more!
"Have you ever considered archery?"
The man across the counter leans in slightly, eyebrows arched in what Riza is sure is supposed to be some sort of salesman's code for "pretty girl, easily influenced." Prior to her entering the store a woman left on the arm of her husband, toting bags that looked much too large for her rail thin arms. Riza's arms, on the other hand, are bulky from muscles that flex every time she gestures towards the display rack which houses the source of her interest: a Luger P.08 pistol.
"It's a wonderful sport," the man continues, "very distinguished."
"Is that so?" Riza answers lazily, hoping her disinterest will hurry this transaction that would have ended minutes ago, had he not caught her staring at the row of arrows stacked neatly inside their quivers that leaned against the display case.
"Very much so!" the man answers, his voice laced with the forced enthusiasm of someone trying to make a pitch. He bends down and disappears behind the counter for a moment, only to reappear with a large bow in his hands. He snaps at the string distractedly, intentionally. "I just got this one in last week. Beautiful workmanship. Most archers would die to have a bow of this caliber. Would you like to see it?"
Riza reaches out her hands and the man rests the bow in them. He stares at her expectantly. She isn't quite sure what to do with it, now that it's in her hands. Usually when inspecting a weapon she would check the barrel, pull the trigger to test resistance, and line up the sights while inquiring about ammunition, but the bow has none of those qualities and so Riza is, quite literally, at a loss for what to do. She stands there stupidly for a moment, turning the bow over in her hands, feeling it's weight, before handing it back to the salesman. "So will I be ringing this up for you as well, ma'am?"
"No thank you," she answers in that terse, no nonsense tone she has perfected since childhood. "Just the pistol, please."
He looks disappointed for a moment, but that sneaky salesman's smirk is back quickly enough. He gives her a once over, taking in her lack of dress or skirt and the stiff way she holds her arms against her side, before turning to retrieve the gun. "Yes, I suppose it would be."
On the walk home Riza passes numerous women, their arms filled with shopping bags, or children, or men. Her newly bought pistol bounces heavily against her hipbone, the metallic thunk inaudible to all but the most trained ears. She passes a jewelry store and thinks that if this secret war they're waging is ever over, she will buy the biggest, most gaudy looking necklace she can; one decorated in gold and sapphire and every frivolous design known to man.
And she will shoot it.
Word Count: 488
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Riza
Summary: Riza attempts to buy a gun.
A/N: This was originally written for this week's fma_fic_contest's prompt, quiver, but it went over the limit by about 200 words, sooooo... posting it here. Yes. In other news, my fic listing can be found here if you're interested in reading more!
"Have you ever considered archery?"
The man across the counter leans in slightly, eyebrows arched in what Riza is sure is supposed to be some sort of salesman's code for "pretty girl, easily influenced." Prior to her entering the store a woman left on the arm of her husband, toting bags that looked much too large for her rail thin arms. Riza's arms, on the other hand, are bulky from muscles that flex every time she gestures towards the display rack which houses the source of her interest: a Luger P.08 pistol.
"It's a wonderful sport," the man continues, "very distinguished."
"Is that so?" Riza answers lazily, hoping her disinterest will hurry this transaction that would have ended minutes ago, had he not caught her staring at the row of arrows stacked neatly inside their quivers that leaned against the display case.
"Very much so!" the man answers, his voice laced with the forced enthusiasm of someone trying to make a pitch. He bends down and disappears behind the counter for a moment, only to reappear with a large bow in his hands. He snaps at the string distractedly, intentionally. "I just got this one in last week. Beautiful workmanship. Most archers would die to have a bow of this caliber. Would you like to see it?"
Riza reaches out her hands and the man rests the bow in them. He stares at her expectantly. She isn't quite sure what to do with it, now that it's in her hands. Usually when inspecting a weapon she would check the barrel, pull the trigger to test resistance, and line up the sights while inquiring about ammunition, but the bow has none of those qualities and so Riza is, quite literally, at a loss for what to do. She stands there stupidly for a moment, turning the bow over in her hands, feeling it's weight, before handing it back to the salesman. "So will I be ringing this up for you as well, ma'am?"
"No thank you," she answers in that terse, no nonsense tone she has perfected since childhood. "Just the pistol, please."
He looks disappointed for a moment, but that sneaky salesman's smirk is back quickly enough. He gives her a once over, taking in her lack of dress or skirt and the stiff way she holds her arms against her side, before turning to retrieve the gun. "Yes, I suppose it would be."
On the walk home Riza passes numerous women, their arms filled with shopping bags, or children, or men. Her newly bought pistol bounces heavily against her hipbone, the metallic thunk inaudible to all but the most trained ears. She passes a jewelry store and thinks that if this secret war they're waging is ever over, she will buy the biggest, most gaudy looking necklace she can; one decorated in gold and sapphire and every frivolous design known to man.
And she will shoot it.