Roy Mustang walked back up to his office with a small bundle tucked under his arm. After his fight with Fullmetal, the colonel had found the kitten Alphonse rescued from the rain. The brothers wouldn't have been able to care for it on their travels, so they left it behind in hopes that it would find a new owner. One of the conditions of his fight with Fullmetal was that he would care for the cat if he lost. The fight had ended in a draw, so he was under no obligation to care for the little orange tabby. But when he walked through the rain to clear his head, he found the transmuted carriage and the little kitten inside it. He brought it inside and wrapped it up in a towel to keep it warm and dry. He supposed he could live with having a pet to care for.

His first lieutenant sat at her desk, brow furrowed in concentration with her own new companion at her heels, a small black and white puppy Fuery had found in the rain. She was reluctant at first, but in just a few hours the puppy had grown on her.

"Sir, I wish you would take more care with your gloves," she sighed, "Either that or you need to learn to sew."

Roy nodded sheepishly, "Sorry." He knew she kept a supply of spares on hand, in case they were destroyed, or irritatingly too wet to get a spark. He hated losing a glove, not only because it made him feel useless, but because he knew how much work went into them. "At least Fullmetal only got to one of them."

She continued her work, marking a white satin glove with delicate crimson embroidery. The fine lines were skillfully added stitch by stitch.

Roy hoped she knew her work was appreciated. It was her idea to use gloves for his transmutations when he first began learning his art. Rather than tattoos like some alchemists chose, at the end of the day he could remove his burden, something he knew his subordinate could never do. To tattoo those markings on his body would not feel right. Not after what he knew the first Flame Alchemist put her through. She never needed a diagram to reference when she worked. She knew every line by heart as it was mirrored on her own body.

"The salamanders are always the tricky part," she told him, "They never come out the same."

He had to agree. He didn't miss the subtle variation on each glove. Some had longer tails, some were chubby, some had heads tilted a little to the side. "I suppose alchemy isn't as exact as we want to believe it to be. Even when the array isn't perfect, they still work."

"Sometimes," she smiled, cutting the thread, "Sometimes they don't." She slipped the glove onto her hand and gave it a snap. The puppy at her heels ran beneath the desk as a spark jumped to life. The kitten in Roy's arms arched its back, hair standing on end. Roy stood breathless, not believing what his eyes had just seen. She took off the glove and handed it to its new owner, "It would be dangerous to give you gloves that don't work properly."

This woman never ceased to amaze him. "Sorry to put you through all this trouble, Lieutenant."

"You never asked me to, sir," she reminded him, "Try to take better care of this one than you do your gloves," she reached out to the kitten in his arms, calming the skittish creature. It cried softly, rubbing against her hands. "I'm glad you decided to take care of it."

He shrugged, "What was I supposed to do, leave it out in the rain?"

She smiled, "I guess you both despise getting wet, so you sympathize with the poor thing."

Roy rolled his eyes. Had anyone else said it he may have gotten defensive, but he had known his subordinate long enough that she was able to get away with remarks like that. "And I suppose a dog is a fitting pet for you." Dogs embody loyalty, they follow their master's commands above all else! Be a jerk to them and they don't complain! And they never once beg for a paycheck!

"Hayate, come," she called, kneeling down to call the dog out from under the desk, "It's alright."

The puppy sniffed the air, making sure the smoke was gone before emerging. He ran to his master's side, curiously watching the kitten in Roy's arms, tilting his head to the side. Hawkeye gently picked up Hayate, showing him the kitten. He watched the animal for a moment before licking its face. Indignantly, the kitten leapt away, perching on Roy's desk to groom away the smell of dog.

Hawkeye couldn't help but laugh, "Hayate, that wasn't very nice."

The kitten glared at the dog while tucking its paws under itself, a tiny, angry loaf.

"Alphonse will be thrilled to hear you're giving it a home," Hawkeye smiled. At least once a week, Alphonse would call to update her on their travels. Whenever Ed called, it was usually because they were in trouble. Roy kept close tabs on the boys, so she usually already knew exactly where they were, but she appreciated their calls, she slept easier knowing those boys were alright.

"It's only temporary." Roy insisted.

"Oh," she sighed, a little disappointed, "I see."

"Once they get their bodies back and settle down somewhere, I'm returning it to him." Roy promised, gently petting the grumpy kitten, who was purring despite the scowl on its face.

She smiled, "Understood, sir."