Nervous Habits

No, not even going to bother cutting it.

Riza Hawkeye was not prone to nervous habits. She, as well as her now-broken up troop, had relied on her being calm, cool, and collected.

At least she used to, that little fan angle with Roy landing himself in the hospital, yeah, sort of shattered that exterior.

She hated being used and she loathed the matter when it was painfully obvious.

The Fuhrer could pull Roy’s string like the puppet master he was making himself out to be, once Roy figured out that she could be offed with a word.

She didn’t only hate the pure manipulation and evilness at work around her.

She hated the benevolence that the Fuhrer showed toward her. No bitterness, or hidden sarcasm, or even smirking around her, he was being a complete gentle giant.

It almost scared her.

But there was another thing, she didn’t hate it, no, hate didn’t even begin to cover it.

She was ordered to wear a skirt.

Ah, evilness rears its ugly head through the sheer agony of the mundane.

Hawkeye felt cheated in more ways than one, because everyone knew how she felt about the torture devices and their mini counterparts. EVERYONE, dammit!

And they knew how she felt about Roy.

Which was why when Fuhrer Bradley called on him, and called on him often, Roy looked so broken that it took everything she had to even look at him.

Her heart bitch-slapped her brain, screaming, “This is the man you SWORE TO LOVE!”

“This is the man you SWORE TO PROTECT!”

Hawkeye jumped at the telephone ringer.

…Pity that the Fuhrer would have to cut his meeting short for an incredibly urgent phonecall.