(Untitled)

[youresoshort]

Who: Roy Mustang (youresoshort ) and Riza Hawkeye (gunpowderreason )
What: Late night convos at the office.
Where: Police station
Why: ...T^T we were bored
When: .....Late at night.

Comments

[gunpowderreason]

[Mostly Hawkeye has no qualms about not letting him shirk on the job, but this isn't normal working hours. Lately he had been staying behind with her as long as she did, unusual for him--working later, it seemed, for no other reason than to work late. The stacks on his desk aren't due any time soon. Contrary to popular opinion, she isn't heartless, and after retrieving another stack from his crowded desk and bringing back to her own to review, continues to let him sleep for now. In any case, he was quieter this way, and she was able to get more done.]

[It's almost an hour later when she remembers to check the clock again, deciding the time to lock up and leave is quickly approaching. She takes a sip of cold tea and clears her throat slightly.]

Sir. [unsurprisingly he doesn't seem to stir. She tries again.] Brigadier General Mustang, sir.

[youresoshort]

(It's hard to hear someone calling your name when your head is swimming in the past. After all the conversations he's had about it, it was only a matter of time before he started to dream about it again. But that didn't mean it was any less unsettling.

Gunshots and explosions ring in his ears, followed shortly by cries and screams that fade with another wave of explosions. He's sitting on the dry ground underneath a tent, attempting to block out the sounds around him.

Even in the shade it's hot. In the office, his eyebrows furrow a little more as he recalls the feeling of the desert heat, and he unbuttons his collar effortlessly in his sleep.)

[gunpowderreason]

[she frowns when he stirs but doesn't respond. It would serve him right if she let him sleep there all night in that chair.]

[but of course she doesn't. His face is twisted--a dream? They had been fairly frequent lately, if his tone and conversation were anything to go by. More varied, and almost as frequent, as her own. She is a little more forceful.]

Sir.

[Several more attempts prove fruitless. Instead of shaking him--a bad idea--she uses an extreme rarity:]

Roy Mustang.

[youresoshort]

(Roy doesn't jump or start. Instead, he simply opens his eyes slowly when the sound of her voice reaches him. He remains perfectly still for a few minutes as his mind attempts to separate dreams from reality and figure out exactly where he is.

Papers on a desk with others surrounding it. For a moment, he thinks he's back in Central. That thought is quickly pushed aside when he sees the trademark insignia of the Thor's police on one of the forms. Right. Space.

He takes a deep breath and slowly sits up before groggily saying:)

Lieutenant.

[gunpowderreason]

[He wasn't kidding, when he said he was slower to wake than before. She watches him orientate himself from the corner of her eye, placing most of her focus on finishing those last few pages.]

Good morning, sir. [she drains the last of her cold tea and manages not to grimace] If you would like to start packing up, I believe it's past time to return to the apartment.