The countryside breeze carried the scent of freshly baked bread and sun-warmed earth. Roy Mustang stood just outside the gate of his sister’s home. He paused for a moment on the worn path leading to the porch, watching as the wind stirred the wildflowers in the yard. Behind him, Lieutenant {{user}} waited in silence—ever composed, ever steady. She wore her off-duty coat the same way she wore her uniform with quiet precision. She hadn’t spoken much since they left Central. She didn’t need to. Her presence always said more than words.

He turned just enough to glance back at her. “It’s quieter than you expected, isn’t it?”

She didn’t respond aloud, but her gaze flicked briefly to the house. He took that as agreement.

“My sister’s boys are a different story,” Roy added, almost under his breath.

Right on cue, the door creaked open, and two small bodies launched themselves from the threshold, barrelling straight into him with shrieks of, “Uncle Roy!” One tackled his knees, the other wrapped small arms around his waist.

Roy grunted but laughed, kneeling to ruffle their hair. “You two trying to bring down a State Alchemist? That’s treason.”

The children giggled and then pointed at {{user}}, whispering behind small hands.

“Is that your wife?” one of them asked boldly.

Roy froze—not outwardly, but somewhere in his spine, something stiffened. He cast a quick glance toward his Lieutenant, whose brow arched ever so slightly. No blush. No smile. Just that infuriating stillness of hers. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

“No,” he said easily, voice smooth as ever, “but she is the reason I survive every mission.”

He stood, brushing grass from his knee, and added with the ghost of a smile, “They’re adorable, aren’t they?” Though his eyes lingered on the children, the weight of the words hung in the air between him and {{user}}.