Granted, it wasn't exactly yesterday I wrote FmA ficlets - or drabble scenes or whatever it should be called.

Sort of based on inspiration from dzioo's post. In any case, she's the guilty one.


Grey morning

He had known that this day would come. It was inevitable after all. Still, he had hoped that it would be a long time until it actually occurred.

Riza glanced over at her superior officer where he sat behind his desk, hands together, thinking. Apparently worried over something, and it irked her a little that she couldn’t tell what it was about. Now when she thought of it, he had been unusually thoughtful ever since she had first picked him up in the morning outside his apartment. Whatever it was, it must have been something that came to his mind between yesterday evening and the morning.

She took the risk of taking another glance at him.

If he had noticed her concerned looks, he didn’t show it. Most likely he hadn’t. That kind of perception wasn’t exactly his strong side.

He swivelled in the chair, turning his back to the room. Seemingly looking out through the window behind his desk. Like he looked at something that wasn’t there. Adjusting the position of the chair slightly, and tilting his head toward the window. She wondered what he could see in that position. Especially since the rainy grey weather in combination with the season made for a dark morning outside.

Riza returned her attention to the paperwork at hand. Some standard reports, a number of requisitions. She raised an eyebrow over a forwarded invoice, trying to imagine what Edward Elric needed 200 balloons, a dart board, two bottles of red and black ink, and a subscription to Mechanics Monthly for. But in the end it wasn’t her problem, so she simply put the invoice on top of the heap that needed the commanding officer’s signature. With a little luck that one would at least get a reaction out of the subdued man.

Walking over to his desk she made a deliberate effort of making her steps sound, but even so, he didn’t turn his attention – and his chair – back to her until she had placed the batch of papers on his desk in a more loudly fashion that was really needed. Startled, he lowered his hand, but not fast enough to make her miss to notice the movement.

That’s when she understood. And in one fluid movement, making it look like nothing more than a soft bow forward to organise the papers on the desk a little, she moved closer to him.

“You know, there is a certain distinguished look to a man with a touch of grey in his hair, brigadier-general,” she stated in a low, confidant voice. “Signals maturity and authority.” She gave him a soft, reassuring smile and was rewarded by the slightest change in his posture. A change that probably was too small for anyone else than her to notice. He wouldn’t lay the troublesome thoughts to rest that easily, of course. For that to happen, she would have to keep working on it for a while to come. When the stubborn man got a fix idea like that, it wouldn’t be discarded that easily. She knew that. But at least she had identified the problem. And hopefully managed to make Roy Mustang’s morning a little less grey.