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“Say, Chief? Is this one of those weird pregnancy whims women get? Except—you know—Riza style?” Havoc said as Roy finished firing another round.
Roy groaned and turned away from the target. He still hadn’t taken the weapon Jean had offered him, choosing to stare contemptuously at the bullet holes peppered around the center.
He glanced pleadingly at Riza. “I passed the academy. That includes firearms. What am I doing this for again?”
Riza, lounging in a lawn chair a safe and insulting distance away from Roy and his gun, fought the slight quirk of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled. “You need more defense than just alchemy. Besides, what if a more subtle approach is necessary?”
“You’re just angry because you can’t follow me to Xing this time. I’ll be fine. Havoc is coming with me.” As well as about twenty aids and security men, none of whom his wife trusted in a worst-case scenario. A blonde eyebrow arched higher. “Yes, and Jean Havoc is not the Fuhrer of Amestris, a country formerly notorious and despised for attacking other nations around it.”
Roy shrugged. “No one can get close enough to incapacitate me. I don’t even need an array anymore. An assassin wouldn’t have a clue what I can do.” Havoc offered helpfully that Roy’s lack of reputation in Xing was precisely the problem. The Fuhrer silenced him with a crisp snap of the fingers that did nothing, but made Jean drop his weapon.
Riza finally sighed and stood. “If you can learn complicated equations for how to create instant flames, then you can endure refresher courses with Jean. Alchemy might be your first option, but at least a gun can still fire in the rain. I’d do it myself, but thanks to my husband I have another Mustang to look after.” She padded into the kitchen muttering about military men who didn’t carry guns being a disgrace.
When he stopped chortling, Havoc again offered the gun to Roy. He accepted it grudgingly. “I hope for the child’s sake it’s not a boy. She’ll never leave him alone,” he complained.
Havoc prayed that Riza hadn’t heard him, but a quick survey of her figure standing in the kitchen proved she had. Jean threaded his fingers through his hair and stepped away from Roy. Glares hadn’t killed yet, but there was still time for Mustang’s wife to accomplish it. After all, she had superb aim.