txtheend
When he says her name now, after so long, it’s always jarring. She’s grown used to the wall of fomality that they’ve constructed between them, and maybe that’s…foolish.
But when he does break decorum Riza always feels as though Roy has grown vulnerable in some way. Is suffering and needs her to coddle him, if only temporarily. The fake smile he has plastered on his face says as much too. It’s a plea of some kind for her to see him.
“If you’d merely consulted our schedules, sir, you would have found out that way,” she settles on saying, warmly enough. “You are the one who deals with that — officially.”
She offers him a cheeky smile. Of course she’s the one who schedules days off, and there’s usually no point in her being there if her commanding officer isn’t. She is his secretary, after all.
“As for Hayate…He is a dog, Colonel. He can only be expected to do so much.” She looks back over her shoulder at the dog again, making sure that he’s behaving himself in the back seat of this — gifted car. “He’s being a very good boy, and oh so patient. Yes he is.”
Hayate’s panting increases, his tail whapping out a steady rhythm against the leather seats.
“Much like you or me…” She looks back at Roy meaningfully. “Besides…Don’t you have a girlfriend you’d rather take out or something?”
“That sounds like something that falls underneath your unofficial responsibility.”
It’s not a formal reprimand by any means, there is only a humorous inflection in his voice, and the look he angles his subordinate’s way is more of a tease than anything else. She knows as well as he does—even more, most likely, that he is absolutely lost without her when it comes to the minutiae of his day-to-day scheduling. Roy would rather occupy himself with tactics and commands, in furthering Alchemical regulation and seeing that his borders are maintained and well-staffed. Logistics have never failed to bore him.
“I don’t.” His mouth pulls in a wry smirk. “At the very least, not one I’d rather be taking out.”
His foot dips on the gas; the car revvs into motion. They wind in between the other vehicles that clutter the road, just tight enough to make her uncomfortable. Roy’s tongue drags along his lips as they speed up, gloved fingers navigating the wheel nimbly, edging it just so for the car to move without jolting.
Oh, he likes driving, and he likes the feel of her quiet motor and innocuous, stylish exterior, perhaps he’ll follow through and purchase this one after all.
“You wouldn’t want a go, would you, Hawkeye? She handles wonderfully.”
Their speed increases as does the...reckless nature of Roy’s driving. Riza feels the tension bleeding into her bones as Roy pushes through traffic, lifting both of her hands in a jolt when someone pulls out in front of them without signalling.
She finishes the motion by rubbing at the skin on her forehead.
“But you do have one,” she says in response to her boss, picking up on his teasing cues, teasing him back in her signature deadpan. Riza looks over at Roy where he watches the road.
At least he’s watching the Goddamn road.
“You wouldn’t want a go, would you, Hawkeye?” He doesn’t have to say more than that.
“Yes. Pull over.” She’s already straightening out, reaching for her belt at the hint that she might be allowed to take control of the situation and alleviate the stress of being in the passenger seat of one of Roy’s cars.
