Yoruichi leans back in her chair, raising her glass to her lips. She sips at the red wine, the pleasant aroma floating to her nose. “Is this the best Amestris has to offer then?”
Across from her, so charming and handsome with his dark hair and equally dark eyes, Roy Mustang reclines in his own chair. He’s confident, he has charisma, he’s ambitious, and when he smirks at her like that, the pool of warmth in her belly becomes a blaze.
Quite matching his title in fact, the Flame Alchemist. An interesting blend of science and magic if Yourichi ever saw one. Kurotsuchi would have flipped to end up in this world. Hell, Kisuke would have begged on hands and knees for this opportunity. And not just for the science applications alone.
“Of course,” Mustang – or Roy as he preferred to be called – replies, lacing his fingers together as he sets them in his lap. “I spared no expense.”
Mmm, I’ll bet you didn’t, Yoruichi thinks and lowers the glass back to the table, tilting her head back. “So…” she says, as they await their dinner for the evening. “What does a colonel do for entertainment around these parts?”
Roy arches a brow. “Other than spending time with a beautiful woman like yourself?”
Yoruichi grins. “I suspect you do that often.” She flicks a stray curl over her shoulder, revealing her bare collarbone, and doesn’t miss when his eyes follow her every movement. This is too easy. “What I mean is, what does Roy Mustang do in his free time. When he’s not charming women or playing with fire or… mmm, I don’t know… plotting to take over the world perhaps?”
Roy straightens, still visibly relaxed, but losing some of his playful edge. “Why would I want to take over the world?” he asks loftily, one hand waving vaguely. “Then I’d have to worry about keeping it in my hands and that sort of worry could kill a man.”
“Or,” Yoruichi says, “that sort of power could surpass any possible cons, yes?”
“Only if I were the sort of man interested in power,” he counters.
This time, Yoruichi laughs. “You’re the Flame Alchemist,” she replies. “You play with fire. If you weren’t after power, you would have specialized in something innocuous. Making balloon animals for children or the like.”
Roy doesn’t flinch, doesn’t falter. Instead, he leans forward, eyes dark with something keen, something interested. “And what do you know of power, madam?”
Her finger toys with the rim of the glass. “It depends on how well you share,” she replies, and lets that thought percolate as the waiter finally brings their meal.