Curse You, 1914 Style Restrictions [Open!]

[snapsforyoutoo.livejournal.com]

Roy thought that he had left heat of this kind back in Ishval, and he can't say that he's finding it much more pleasant than he did the first time. Also, he can't decide whether the humidity thrown into the equation makes the experience better or worse.

At least he has real clothes again. It has taken him a few months, but, finally, he has found slacks and a jacket that suit his tastes, as well as a decent shirt and functional suspenders. The shoes could be better, but he's willing to cope as long as he doesn't have to put the plantsuit back on for a good long while. Unfortunately, the aforementioned heat is trying to convince him that the clothes in which he is most comfortable are highly, highly impractical, the waves of hot rising from the pavement singing "Exchange the shirt for something lighter, Colonel! Try a T-shirt, maybe, or maybe just forgo the shirt entirely! We promise you won't regret your decision!"

He's fairly sure that he will regret the decision, though, so he settles for rolling his sleeves past his elbows, folding his jacket over his arm, and snagging a pair of dark glasses to block out the sun.

Now to find Riza, and perhaps shade and cold drinks.

Comments

[snapsforyou.livejournal.com]

"Ah, well, point taken," he says, amending his previous thought. He'd looked that part over--the crew may be able to look after itself, but the point is not for them to be safe. He agrees with her wholeheartedly on that point, and he doesn't have to say anything for it to be understood--protecting the defenseless is a key to his purpose in everything. He smiles simply.

The depth and double meaning in that whispered statement is caught entirely, and he chuckles, because damn is it true. He wouldn't have done half the things he'd done since waking up on this infernal ship if he had talent for avoiding emotional baggage.

He stops chuckling when he hears that question, though, and his rather blank stare in her direction speaks to the absurdity of the suggestion to his mind. Mr. Mustang?, he thinks, blinking in a very baffled manner. Are we kids again, or what?

"Riza. You're not twelve anymore," he says rather blankly, a thick layer of mirth hiding somewhere under there. Because really, this is quite amusing.

[carrycorpses.livejournal.com]

"I'm glad to hear it," she said slowly. Really, she was. She didn't want there to be misconceptions of behavior between the two of them. Already, things were difficult enough to think through with the apparent trappings of time against them. Still, they could still work efficiently, just as always. She had no fears there.

Turning her eyes toward him at his chuckles, she rose a brow. Ah. Apparently he had caught that whispered phrase. However, any amusement from that dissapated at the baffled expression on his features.

Riza couldn't help but smirk her thin trademark smirk at that. There was something rewarding in that confused look, but beyond that, Riza's eyes remained the same to keep her words hidden a moment longer.

Picking up the drink, she took a moment to respond. "Nonetheless, sir, I'm afraid it's been years since you called me Riza, so I am quite unaccustomed to this behavior. If you do not wish for me to call you Mr. Mustang, what, then, do you want me to call you? Because I'm afraid I'm at a loss otherwise," the words were light and simple, obviously wanting affirmation for whatever just exchanged between them, "...Or does calling you Mr. Mustang make you feel much older than you care to believe?"

[snapsforyou.livejournal.com]

He gives her a highly bland look at that, because Riza? Dear? You're being deliberately obtuse, and he's not sure if it's a good thing. So he's not going to reward you with an expression. At all.

Tonelessly, he says "I have a first name, you know. I believe you're aware of the mechanics of it. After all, it only contains one syllable."

[carrycorpses.livejournal.com]

Her expression is point blank. She realizes she's being obtuse and she'll continue to be such for a bit longer. It's amusing watching the expressions on his features she's normally not the one pulling out. Still, she kept the face straight and almost lackluster.

When he spoke, Riza resisted the urge to sigh. First names. The thought of that was strange in itself, especially considering she couldn't remember a day in her life where she called him Roy. It was always Mr. Mustang, Colonel, Sir, Colonel Mustang and so many more variations.

She kept the thoughts to herself.

"Of course I am well aware, sir, but you'll have to forgive me as I've never been allowed permission to call you such," Riza responded, the words continuing to have that easy double meaning. Permission, you must understand that much Roy. She's still probing about what's happening now.