Bullet Holes and Pocket Watches
AN: a FMA drabble from me? I never would have thought it would happen. But seeing as trinity got me a pocket watch for valentines, I was smacked upside my head with a two-by-four by my as yet faceless muse.
Lt. Colonel Roy Mustang was sitting at his desk bright and early Wednesday morning, hastily reading (more like skimming actually, and that was probably a bit generous too) and signing documents from a pile of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk for the past week. The last of it was due in three hours.
A knock and the opening of the door got his attention, but he didn't look up; he kept to his work.
"Yes?" Roy asked. Jean Havoc walked through the door.
"Colonel, sir? This package just came for you. It's marked: Urgent! For Immediate Review!" Havoc said as he approached Roy's desk.
Roy sighed and gestured to his desk, still not looking up, "Just stick on my desk with the rest of this mountain of paperwork." Havoc walked over and placed the heavy manila envelope in the tray marked "In" on Mustang's desk and noticed a blemish on the desk that could only be a bullet hole.
"Roy- I mean, Colonel! What happened to your desk?" Roy looked up finally and quirked an eyebrow and then looked down at the edge of his desk.
"Oh? That? That's actually a very interesting story. It was this Saturday. For whatever reason I decided that it would be a good reason to work late…
---flashback to Saturday---
"Sir? If you're not going to do any work, why are you still here?" the blonde gunman Lt. Risa Hawkeye asked her immediate superior.
"What on earth are you talking about Hawkeye? Of course I'm working." Roy Mustang's head rested on his hand. His elbow in tern rested on a desk that had no bullet holes…yet.
In his other hand the flame alchemist held his silver, state-issued pocket watch. He was unconsciously fiddling with the latch, pressing the button and opening the face to view, and then closing it with the rest of his hand that was not occupied with holding the watch and pushing the buttons on the out side. It made a squeekclik noise every time he closed it.
Hawkeye stood, silent sentry, by the door and waited for the Colonel to finally accept that he wasn't getting anything done so that they could go home. But, that didn't look like it was going to happen anytime soon. It didn't look like the clicks would stop anytime soon either.
Mustang's eyes trailed over to Risa, as if sensing her annoyance. "Something bothering you Hawkeye?" he asked, breaking her out of her reverie. His fingers, however, didn't miss a beat.
"It's nothing sir. Don't worry about it." She might as well try to be patient.
At least while she could be. "Sir? Actually could stop, I have a headache."
"Stop? Stop what Hawkeye?" Mustang looked honestly perplexed. His watch continued to click away.
"The watch sir." Hawkeye told him.
"Ah! My apologies Lieutenant." The Colonel said unenthusiastically as he put his watch down on the desk and turned his gaze out the window, but the glazed look his eyes held said he wasn't looking at anything in particular. Mustang's fingers began drumming on the desk about a minute later, and eventually found the chain of his pocket watch that had been left on his desk and began the vicious cycle of clicking again.
"SIR!" Hawkeye nearly yelled, Roy jumped and turned to look at Hawkeye with a questioning look, "Your Watch, sir"
Mustang looked perplexed for a moment and then said," Oh, My apologies Lieutenant," with just as much zest as before, and then put down the watch, only to have it picked up and have the process begin again.
"Ahem," Hawkeye coughed.
Flame's eyes drifted to Hawkeye for an instant and then seeing nothing immediately wrong, turned back to his staring out the window.
"AHEM!" Hawkeye coughed again. And once again Mustang's gaze drifted over to her, and then back to the window.
"Are you okay lieutenant?" Hawkeye's eye began to twitch.
"You sound like you have a cough…"
"…" Hawkeye muttered
"What was that?" Roy asked
"I'm fine sir," Hawkeye bit out with a growling tone
"Good to hear," Roy went back to staring out the window.
Roy stared at the bullet's point of entry, the watch in his hand (not an in inch away from the wound in his desk), and Hawkeye, "…I'm going to go home and have a drink. Hawkeye, you are dismissed."
"Thank you Sir"
AN:okay. So it's a bit long for a drabble, but oh well. Same premise.