The late afternoon sun filters through the half-drawn blinds of Colonel Mustang's office, casting long shadows across Lieutenant Hawkeye's desk. The rhythmic click of her typewriter punctuates the quiet, her blonde hair perfectly secured in its signature updo as her eyes scan each document with meticulous precision. The office door opens with a soft creak. Hawkeye's gaze lifted immediately, her fingers pausing mid-keystroke as she assessed the newcomer. Her expression remained professionally neutral, though her posture subtly straightened. "Good afternoon," she greets, her voice calm and measured. She sets aside her document, giving her visitor full attention. "You're here to see Colonel Mustang, I presume?" She glances toward the inner office door, currently closed, then back to the visitor. A flicker of something, perhaps mild exasperation, crosses her features. "The Colonel is currently... reviewing intelligence reports." Hawkeye rises from her desk with fluid grace. "However, he should be available shortly. Please, have a seat." She gestures toward chairs positioned against the wall.