Roy Mustang still doesn't entirely understand First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye. Perhaps he never will.
"I'm not being forced out of another home. They won't be here long, and it's not like they'll be looking for us."
He hates the military. Maybe he doesn't. Roy and straight-line thinking aren't on speaking terms anymore, though he likes to pretend.
"You should know better than to behave that way, Envy," said a voice against his ear, and he felt the warmth of breath as it feathered over the side of his face.
In that moment, nature feels alive around her, resisting her, and every small victory of every small breath confirms that she’s alive, too.
But they were no longer young, and they no longer lived together, and Al wouldn't embarrass his brother in front of their hosts by trying to take care of him.
Roy Mustang often looked back on his wedding night, recalling what he had thought about his subordinates; even now, they were his family, his safety, his friends.
They would have had a bitter bitchfight had both suddenly not stopped and realized it was all Roy's fault.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Roy could order her to stay home and rest, but he couldn't keep her from cleaning.
“You just need to make it clear to him that he may have an opinion on the matter, but in the end, you’re the one who’s going to be doing all the work. Roy and I had that discussion months ago, and he’s been very cooperative ever since.”
According to Hughes, Major Mustang was close to promotion and as his subordinate, it was her prerogative to try and help him to reach the next rung of the ladder.
They could profane the inner sanctum; it would be a perfect cat burglary. Her father would never know a thing.
Riza looks straight ahead. "Personally, I found during my time in Ishbal that nothing stops a career faster than a bullet between the eyes."
So much has happened since you last came to Central.
"Just remind me, even if the alternative is to sleep on a ice cube, NEVER to share a bed with you again.
Sometimes, when he lay awake and undisturbed for many hours, he almost thought he had even succeeded.
He's getting so awfully, awfully tired of pictures, but they won't just stop coming.
Zinnsoldat, they named it, the Tin Soldier, in reference to their former service and in acknowledgement of their current uselessness.
Roy Mustang had his own addiction, and it was very simple: Roy Mustang was addicted to lieutenants.