Though the nurses were gorgeous and the food decent, Roy Mustang tried to avoid the military hospital next to Central Headquarters at all costs.

He wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was the obnoxiously pristine interior, despite the psychological stain of bloodshed, or the overwhelming scent of antiseptic clinging to the air.

Maybe he just felt guilty.

...He tried not to dwell on it too much.

A sharp grunt escaped his lips when your cold hands grazed his poor attempt at cauterization, his chest tightening at the pain blooming underneath his scorched skin.

“Would it hurt to be a little more careful?” Roy hissed, biting back a string of curses at the ache crawling up his nerves. “Damn, you're cold.”