The Lady and Joe

Riza’s breath was visible this night, the cold air causing it to obscure her view of one side of the street for a few seconds. She shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat, drawing said article of clothing tighter to herself. Sometimes she caught herself wondering why she signed up for this job. No amount of money could be worth this? Could it?

It would have to be an incredible raise in order to qualify for ‘I get paid enough for this.’ Currently, this wasn’t the case, and she just wished that the person would just hurry up and pick up the package that she was ‘delivering’.

“You seem a little cold, Hawkeye.” said a masculine voice behind her.

She turned around and looked at the barely taller than her Edward Elric, hands carrying something, though she could not tell what. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to the trash can across the street.

“I thought I told you to call me Riza, Fullmetal.” She said.

“And I thought I told you I would only call you that if you called me by my first name, Riza.” He replied with humor.

“Sure thing, Edward.” She paused and looked over at him, “What’s that you got there?”

Pulling them out from his sleeves, (she had no idea how he did that) he presented to her eyes two mugs filled with steaming liquid. “You looked like you could use some coffee, Riza, so I thought I’d stand out here with you and keep you company for a while, as well as give you something warm to drink.” He handed her one of the mugs.

“Thank you, Edward.” She took a cautious sip, savoring the flavor. She looked at the cup curiously, “Did you put something in this? It tastes great.”

He took a small sip before replying, “Brown sugar,” he said.

“It doesn’t taste like that’s all that’s in there, Edward.”

He smiled, “Well, if you want to know what else is in there, I could always show you the recipe, though it may take some practice to get it right.”

They both watched in silence as a car pulled up on the side of the road, picked up a manila envelope from the trash can, then immediately left the neighborhood.

She took a larger gulp of the cooler coffee, then told him, “If you want, we could go back to my place after this and you could show me.”

He raised an eyebrow, offering her his arm as he asked, “Is that an invite to stay the night as well?”

“We’ll just have to see where things go after the coffee recipe sharing.” She replied, linking her free arm in his as they headed back towards her apartment.

He chuckled with good humor, letting out a billowing cloud of steam as he said, “I’m looking forward to it.”

--

Fin…..

-- -- --(Track-Stone Tower Instrumental Remix by unknown artist)

AN: Yay! Another one-shot done. This came to me when I was looking up information about a coffee drink somebody made me once. It was called Hot Buttered Coffee. Of course, I had the non-alcoholic version, considering I was underage at the time, but I do remember it was really good, even if I don’t remember when, where, or who gave it to me.

I found a recipe on , although I don’t remember any cloves or nutmeg in my drink.

Anyway, reviews are welcome as always, so tell me if you enjoyed this one or not.

Hot Buttered Coffee

1 teaspoon unsalted butter
1 teaspoon brown sugar
5-6 ounces freshly brewed Jamaican coffee, steaming
1 whole clove
1 tablespoon dark rum
1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg

Put butter in an Irish coffee glass or mug, and then pour in the steaming coffee.
Add brown sugar and stir until dissolved. Add clove and rum. Dust with nutmeg.