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Shopping

"Lieutenant, not that I don't completely support and encourage your feminine side, but what are we doing here?"

Riza glanced at him from the corner of her eye, a twitch of irritation in her left eyebrow, and a following twitch of her hand at her side. Roy cringed, knowing she was just itching to reach for her gun. "Because, sir, your military uniform is filthy and you refuse to dry clean it. In fact, I find you're too cheap to buy almost anything that the state doesn't cover. So I'm here to drop it off, and you came along because you have no other clean clothes, so we're going to buy you some. This has nothing to do with my femininity—"

"—or lack thereof—"

Riza glared at him. "—because truth be told, I hate shopping. But I'm clearly your babysitter for the day, and I won't have you walking around in your undergarments. Really, sir, I'd have thought you, a grown man and a colonel to boot, would be more responsible."

"Me?" Roy chuckled. "Really, Lieutenant, I'd have thought you, a hardened soldier and my babysitter to boot, would have no false illusions as to my responsibility."

"Or lack thereof." A rare smile curled at the corners of her mouth.

They walked in silence for a moment, surveying the colourful shops and stalls laden with merchandise, when suddenly Roy burst out, "There!"

Riza jumped, glancing at him with alarm. "There, what?"

"There!" Roy flung an arm in the direction of a female clothing store, his eyes wide with excitement.

"Sir, I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific—"

"That skirt!" Roy turned to her, a smirk spreading over his face. "It's perfect for you!"

Riza studied the skirt in question, frowning. "That's miniscule, sir, it's barely even a skirt. It looks more like a belt."

A hopeful look. "So are you going to try it on?"

Roy spent the rest of the impromptu shopping trip with a gun in his back.