Fuhrer Mustang has a date. Colonel Hawkeye couldn’t care less. Written for the darling Freya.
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.