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Fuhrer Roy Mustang was fairly certain that he could literally be buried alive by his paperwork. The leaders of Drachma had renewed their efforts, attempting to convince him that it was in Amestris's best interest to hand Briggs to them. The unspoken threat was obvious, and it had become Roy's job to convince them otherwise, before the tentative Pact of Non-Aggression was broken again. There were also smaller matters, like how the former Fullmetal Alchemist kept mailing him letters filled with pictures of his wife and kids, reminding Roy greatly of a certain deceased Brigadier General.

A sharp knock on his office door caused the Fuhrer's pen to skid across the paper.

"Come in," Roy drawled. Guards were stationed in the hallways and it wasn't as if the Flame Alchemist ever had to worry about his personal safety.

Colonel Riza Hawkeye entered the dimly lit room, flooding it with light from the hall. The guards shut the door behind her, leaving the two of them alone.

"Fuhrer," she said with a salute.

"At ease, Colonel," Roy set his work down and rose to his feet. "I expect you've come to sign out for the day."

"Yes, sir," his most valued subordinate told him with a sharp nod.

"Thank you staying late again, Colonel Hawkeye. We both know I would never get anything done without you by my side."

"It's just my job, sir. Have you finished your work for the day?"

Roy chuckled. "I can't say that I have. It's a damn shame, too. I have date with an absolutely beautiful woman, and it looks like I'll be late."

"I'm sorry, sir," Hawkeye replied coolly. "But procrastination comes with consequences."

"Then I suppose you won't help me sneak out and leave early."

"That's right, sir," she said, saluting once more. "I would be failing us both if I did such a thing. Have a good night, Fuhrer."

Roy returned to his desk as the door shut behind the Colonel. He retrieved the document he had been reading and continued to make notes as fast as he could write. The girl he was dating certainly did not appreciating tardiness.

Two hours later, Riza Hawkeye sat on her couch wearing civilian clothes and eating Xingese take out from the box. Black Hayate had run to the door and was barking furiously as shuffling sounds came from the outside. Riza stayed where she was. After a moment the door opened with the sound of jingling keys, and Roy Mustang stepped into the apartment.

"You're late," she accused, taking a sip of red wine.

"I warned you," he shot back, tossing his coat onto a chair. He was still dressed in his professional clothes.

"I was hungry and the food was getting cold. I stared without you."

"I noticed," he sat beside her and kissed her lips, tasting wine and spicy sauce.

She pulled away and narrowed her eyes. "Did you get your work done?"

He grinned, pouring a glass of wine and helping himself to the lukewarm food. "Nope."

Riza placed her take out box in her lap and glared. Hayate shot out of the room like a bullet from one of his master's guns. "You promised."

Roy shrugged. "I told you I had a hot date tonight. I thought she was a little more important."

Riza rolled her eyes, but her lips couldn't help but quirk up. "You're going to have so much work tomorrow, and I'll be the one who you whine to."

"Yes," Roy agreed, his mouth filled with noodles. He put his feet up on her coffee table. "But it means I get to spend the whole night with you."