Roy Mustang was an emo boy,
With darkness in his life,
His friend Maes Hughes would tell him thus,
"Roy, get yourself a wife!""
Fire was his weapon,
And whiskey soothed his soul,
Young Edward was his protégé,
To be Führer was his goal.
He loves dogs for their loyalty,
And hates his paperwork,
His subordinates all will follow him,
But most think he's a jerk.
With miniskirts in fashion,
And Hawkeye on his arm,
Mustang's greatest skill in life,
Is his irresistible charm.
But one thing makes Roy Mustang swoon,
His weakness brings him pain,
He can't go out when it is wet,
He's useless in the rain!
Riza Hawkeye's fingers fiddled and pressed at the soft cloth of the General's gloves, trying to derive some sort of distraction and comfort from the futile action. Despite her attempts though, her mind kept diverting back to the distressing situation at hand, what was occurring just a few rooms down from her.
Her General Roy Mustang was getting a risky surgery done, and the First Lieutenant couldn't focus on anything else even if she wanted to. This operation would affect her just as much as it would him except he would be left with a gaping hole where his left eye should be and she couldn't shake the possibility of something going wrong, couldn't relax if she tried, until she set her eyes on Roy, safe and sound, again.
The surgery was meant to remove a bullet left by that bastard, Archer, Riza recalled with gritted teeth from Roy's skull. It had taken several days to sort out how to go about such a sensitive situation, for the