Springtime Twitterpation

Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. Nor do I own an exciting and creative disclaimer. Sigh.

Tuesday, May 2nd was a beautiful spring day. It was the sort of day that crystallizes itself in a person's memory, forever remaining as an abstract representation of spring that one can conjure up as a source of hope when entrenched in the deepest doldrums of winter. The sky was clear—a vibrant robin's-egg blue dotted with tiny, crisp white clouds that grazed their careful way across the vast blue expanse. The sun shone warmly on the lively green vegetation, highlighting the paths that the lovestruck songbirds cut through the humming air—in short, the day was absolutely perfect.

Consequently, it was also the day that Riza Hawkeye finally went off the deep end.

Perhaps "finally" is not the proper word to use. Up until this day, Riza had showed no sign that she was reaching the breaking point. She had consistently adhered to her daily routine in crisp, military fashion—drinking her morning coffee, imposing loads of paperwork on Colonel Mustang, waving her gun in the faces of the unruly—and neither she nor anyone else had suspected that there was even any deep end off of which she could topple. But tragedy always strikes the hardest where it is least expected.

Most of the day had gone smoothly. There was a certain tension in the building, but that was to be expected, as it was the prime moment of spring, and no one (with the possible exception of Riza herself) really cared to be at work. It wasn't until the end of the day that anything unusual happened at all—and even then, the event wasn't so unheard-of as to warrant any alarm.

Roy sighed, fiddled aimlessly with a pile of paperwork on his somewhat disheveled desk, stood and proceeded to walk out the door.

"See you tomorrow, Lieutenant," he called before disappearing into the hallway beyond.

"Colonel?" Risa asked in mild surprise.

"Hmm?" Roy poked his head around the doorframe.

"Where are you going? It's an entire hour before you generally leave."

"Oh, I have a date with Alicia. Or maybe it's Jessica. Or Trish. Whatever, I'll find out when I get there," he replied with a jaunty grin.

"Have fun, sir. Just as long as you get that paperwork done," she sighed, managing to appear calm and nonchalant, if a little exasperated. Roy's head vanished beyond the doorframe. Riza stared blankly at the polished surface of her desk.

She did not feel calm and nonchalant. Nor did she feel exasperated. Rather, she felt like repeatedly smashing her head into her desk until one or the other broke.

This had never happened before. Riza had always been able to take the news of Roy's excessive dating without batting an eye, physically or mentally. It was ridiculous behavior, but she had long ago accepted its existence, and had even begun to feel slightly amused by the whole situation.

But today, the word "date" made her feel like killing someone. With a machete. A dull one. Preferably rusty.

Riza did not take time to sort through these newfound emotions. She was not interested in the subconscious implications of this bizarre phenomenon. All she was interested in at the moment (aside from gratuitously violent homicide) was her desk, and the wondrous possibilities of using it to beat herself senseless. And so she began.

Apparently the persistent impact of skull against wood was quite loud, because it was not long before Havoc poked his head into the room to see what was going on. His smoldering cigarette fell weakly from his dropped jaw as he partook of the astonishing sight of Riza attempting to knock herself out via vicious head-slamming.

"L…Lieutenant Hawkeye?" he stuttered after staring for a few moments in shock. He guiltily stomped out his discarded cigarette before it managed to catch the carpet on fire.

"I'm working," Riza replied shortly. She continued slamming her forehead onto the desk.

"Hawkeye, stop it!" he cried, attempting to pull her away from her instrument of self-imposed torture.

"Let go of me!" she snarled fiercely. "I—" And suddenly, she had an idea. A wonderful, glorious, evil, and positively bonkers idea. Havoc cringed as he saw the insane light that entered Riza's eyes as the idea struck. "I'm fine, Second Lieutenant," she said languidly. "I just have some work to do." With that, she pushed back from her desk and promptly left the room. She had no time for the bewildered stare that Havoc aimed at her retreating back. The madness had taken root, and nothing was going to distract her from the task she had in mind.

She had a date to sabotage.