Don't own FMA!

III

"Lieutenant!" First Lieutenant Falman looked up from his desk at the Briggs solider, holding a small package. "A package arrived for you yesterday. Sorry that it took a while for it to get here. Sir!" he shuffled the package in his hand, so he could salute him. He looked awkwardly at the package before handing it to him.

"Thanks, solider." Falman grabbed the box, almost dropping it. "This is heavy, who the hell is this from." Falman looked back up to the other man. "It's warm. I can even feel it through my gloves…" He turned the box over, seeing it was from Eastern Headquarters, but no name. "Mustang?" he looked up to the solider, who only shrugged.

"Be careful, sir. It moves." Falman eyed the man dressed in white before looking back at the box. He watched the box in his hands, before shaking it. He heard a soft whooshing noise. "What the hell?"

Falman opened the box slowly. His eyes widened, "What the fuck!" Inside was package was sand. The whole 6x6x4 was sand. On top was a small note:

Dear Falman,

Since you're up in the cold ass mountains, I thought I'd send you a small gift, a reminder of warmer days. Of days when you could actually feel your toes. A token of our love for you.

Breda ('The General' and Havoc…and Fuery)

Falman looked down at the sand. He removed one of the gloves, sifting his fingers through the very warm sand. Falman clenched his hands and growled, throwing the box against the wall. "God Damn you!" he shoved his glove back on, away from the impending cold.

Lieutenant General Armstrong walked in the office, and looked at the wall and the floor covered in sand. "You're cleaning that shit up."

Falman stared gaping at her as she walked back out the room.