“Hello, Riza,” Roy said, his voice warm and velvety as he stepped over to her side. He slid a finger beneath her chin, gently coercing her to lift her head, exposing the black ouroboros that was branded into the curve of her neck. The scar from the assimilation had long healed, the tattoo-like mark being the only evidence it had happened.
She met his dark eyes.
He leant in close, a devilish smirk playing across his lips as his face drew closer to hers. “Long time, no see, darling. How about a kiss?”
There was a quiet click.
Roy’s body went rigid as he glanced down, feeling the cold metal of the gun pressed against the underside of his chin.
His eyes flicked up to hers, watching as the rage burnt behind the swirling brown depths.
He held his gaze, her composure unwavering as a strand of her blonde hair fell in front of her face.
“Come now, sweetheart,” he cooed.
She let out a dry laugh, the corner of her lip turning upwards as she drew back on the trigger.
Roy’s body jerked backwards, red sparks dancing across his skin as his flesh quickly pulled itself back together. He staggered slightly, regaining his footing and slowly straightening himself. A wicked smile played across his lips as his hand brushed across the underside of his chin, feeling the healed wound.
“Now, now, Riza,” he scolded mockingly. “That’s no way to treat a friend.”
“We’re not friends,” Riza replied, her voice void of any emotion as she levelled her gun on him.
“You’re right,” he said, a hint of mockery in his tone. “We’re more than just friends.” His smile grew wider as he took a step forward, letting the barrel of the gun rest against his forehead. “Aren’t we?”
“Enough!”
The booming voice silenced them.
Roy took a step back, straightening his back. Riza reluctantly lowered her gun, holstering it in the small of her back.
Alex Armstrong stepped out of the shadows, his body towering over them. “When the two of you are done squabbling like children, we have work to do.”