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The loud thunk was what pulled Riza Hawkeye back into wakefulness, head jolting up and hand automatically reaching for her sidearm before her eyes had even opened.
“Relax, it’s just me. Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” She looked from the smiling face of her commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, to the chipped I <3 East City mug he’d placed her desk.
That explained the noise.
“How long was I asleep?” She’d meant to only rest her eyes for a moment or two, but it had been light out when she’d done that. The only light in the office now was the glow of the cheap bulbs. Someone had placed his greatcoat over her shoulders while she slept, despite her own military jacket hanging over the back of the vacant chair next to her.
“Happy Autumn Solstice to you too, Lieutenant.” He was holding another mug, less chipped that the one he’d given her and minus any trite slogans. Must be very few people around to get the pick of the break room like that.
“The solstice can wait until I’m finished,” she replied, although her statement was ruined by the yawn she couldn’t hold back.
Roy gave her a sympathetic smile, taking a seat at the empty, connected, desk next to hers.
“When was the last time you slept?”
“I-“
She’d been home at least twice in the last three days. Showered, ate and changed her uniform. She’d napped, both at home and work. But she struggled to remember when she’d last seen her bed.
“Just now, sir. You saw that.”
She looked at the mug Roy had placed on her desk. “Thank you for drink.”
Roy took a sip from his own mug. “Apple cider,” he said. “That’s the tradition, right?”
She tried some. It tasted sweet and of apples, but it was not cider.
“Apple juice,” Roy explained. “We’re still on duty.”
It seemed like everything in the East happened at once. Gunrunners operating out the of desert, disruptions on the New Optain line that could be nothing, but equally could be terrorists, and the public yet again simultaneously complaining about the presence of the military everywhere while saying they weren’t doing enough to protect them.
“You’ve been working so much lately.” His voice was much softer when they were in private. That wasn’t the Roy Mustang the rest of the world saw.
“Only because somebody doesn’t pull his weight.” She couldn't resist that one, and there's the tiniest of smiles visible over the rim of her mug.
It was a lie, but an easy one, and he laughed.
“That’s why I have you to keep me in line.”
She told herself it was the cramped desk, the lack of space, that made Roy’s hand brush against her own.
(that was a lie too, and a more difficult one to carry).
They were alone in the office, and there was no need for lies.
It happened like this:
She stood up, tugging on his hand for him to follow her. He drew her close, and she could smell ash and smoke and taste the apples of the ersatz cider on his mouth.
(but this didn’t happen, couldn’t happen, wouldn’t happen).
It happened like this:
She drew her hand back, and suddenly got very interested in her drink. She wondered if Roy had thought the same thing she had. She saw him out the corner of her eye, studying his own drink as intensely as she was her own.
Probably. Maybe.
He broke the silence first.
“You should get some rest. We’re going to Resembool in the morning.”
“What’s happening in Resembool?” Her mind was back on reports and gunrunners and smugglers, and she wondered what could be so bad way out in the sticks.
“State Alchemist evaluation and possible recruitment. Should be routine.”
Something routine in the East. That would be nice.