Riza lets Hayate go and answers the phone “Hello?”
The breath she was holding came out in a sigh of relief as the familiar voice of Roy Mustang emanates from the receiver. His warm, pretend intoxicated voice cuts through the encroaching darkness like a beacon. She would never comprehend how he could embody his chosen element so well. From a destructive force to be reckoned with, to a light that seared through the darkest places, even to the idea that the flame represents passion; Roy Mustang was fire incarnate.
“Good evening Madame. The flowers you ordered are ready for delivery.” Roy was putting a bit of emphasis on his vowels, a clear sign he was faking drunkenness. Riza held back a sigh of exasperation. Of course he would call now of all times. When she was still reeling from the revelation that innocent looking Selim Bradley was numbered amongst the homunculi threatening the entire country.
“I didn’t order any flowers,” she replies crisply. She couldn’t let him know how grateful she was to hear his voice. How she desperately wanted to hear him assure her she was safe and everything was alright. Because tonight had been quite the shock to her system. And now to hear his voice after meeting Pride was like a balm to the lingering fear. It soothed her soul to hear the voice of her colonel after she had faced such an enemy alone. A warmth replaces the cold pit in her stomach as she smiles to herself. Only he can make her feel like this right after the overwhelming dread that Pride had filled her with.
“All right sorry,” he says still playing drunk. “I got drunk and bought a ton of flowers. I’d be really grateful if you’d help me get rid of some.” He sounds like he’s having a rough night, but she knows he probably paid for information and got the flowers in the bargain.
Riza pauses, he was asking to see her. Using his drunken ruse as a cheat to find a moment to speak with her. And oh, Riza had never wanted to succumb to her feelings for Roy more than she did right now. She wanted to let him put his arms around her and just hold her tightly. She needed to let his warm, ever-present glow chase away her fear and unease. But the words of Pride echoed in her ears and mind. ‘Watching from the shadows.’ She couldn’t be seen with him tonight, no matter how badly she wanted to see him face to face.
Pride would see it as her attempting to get Roy the information. He would assume she was already making a move to out him to her colonel.
And what then? Would Pride do as he threatened and hurt Roy? Would he strike them now physically, or would they perhaps suffer another setback? Would they take Roy prisoner? He was a sacrifice candidate after all, whatever that meant. Would she cost him his chance to make moves against their enemy by letting him come to her door? Roy’s plans were finely detailed and complex, with intricacies no one else could replicate. They all needed him capable of continuing to conspire against their homunculus run government.
And yet she hesitates, hanging between desperately wanting to invite him to her door even if it was just to hand over a bouquet or two, and her need to protect him. She failed him once, and Lust had nearly killed him. It still burned her pride to know Lust had done that to her beloved Colonel. The homunculus bitch had gravely wounded Roy and then gloated about it. Lust had reminded Riza of a schoolgirl then, kissing another girl’s crush and then boasting about it to said girl. And Riza had reacted in kind, she had let her temper get away from her and lost her cool. Lost her ability to think just long enough to put Alphonse Elric in danger.
And Roy had scolded her for her failure. For letting that bitch get under skin like she did. Riza sighs as she tries to get herself under control. She won’t fail him again like that. She won’t let the enemy win against her a second time.
Roy notices her confliction, “What’s wrong? What happened?” He asks soberly, his voice laced with concern. Even over the phone it’s cute how much he cares. It’s endearing to know he is so concerned with her wellbeing. She feels something fuzzy settle in her chest at his words. It’s nice to know he worries about her, that he cares enough to call at all. And it makes it harder to do her duty.
She has to lie to him. Has to pretend she is okay so he will leave her alone. She has to protect him from Pride and his promise. So she sucks it up, she’ll suffer tonight in the darkness so he remains unharmed. Because despite how much she will deny it when asked, she loves him. Riza loves him enough to suffer a lifetime of only being his faithful adjutant if it means he is safe and reaches his goal. She loves him enough to watch him flirt with his Aunt’s girls for information, loves him enough to put all her effort into making sure he reaches his goal, loves him enough to not accept his flowers tonight.
“Nothing Sir, it’s nothing,” she answers in an even voice. Her heart clenches at the lie. She hates to be dishonest with him, no matter the reason.
“Really, are you sure?” He presses. She wants to say no. Riza longs to beg him to come over flowers or not and just dispel the darkness, even for a few minutes. What would it feel like to have his hands on her in a way that was not professional? Would she smell ash and smoke or aftershave if she leaned in close to him? Would his breath tickle her ear if he whispered something flirty to her?
“Yes Sir, I’m sure.” I’m not sure, I’m not alright. “About the flowers, Sir… I don’t own a vase.” I have a jar though. “Thank you for calling Colonel.” I needed to hear your voice, Roy.
She hangs up the phone and covers her face with her hands. How had that been the hardest thing to do to tonight? Hell, turning Roy down was more upsetting to her than learning Selim was a monster.
She slumps to the floor again and Hayate comes to her side. She pets him and smiles to herself. “How does he have such uncanny timing?”
4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?
"Murmur" implies a closeness that sends my heart racing, whether it's romantic or familial.
27. Who is the most stressful character you’ve ever written? Why?
"Stressful" is probably too strong a word, but when I've written Iroh from someone else's POV, I have to work a little harder to get him right. Most outsiders see his knowledge as covering any subject, and they rely on his proverbs to get them out of a situation. Writing a character that's supposed to be smarter than you can be very tricky. It's funny though—when I write from his POV, I don't feel the same pressure. Iroh lets his reputation do the work for him, and he can internally know that he's not as good (in all manners of the word) as everyone thinks he is.
