[ he nearly keeps walking, when she stops . . . mostly out of habit, because riza always keeps pace with him. but when roy notices her absence at his side, he does turn, almost confused at the sudden halt. did something happen, or was something wrong? did she notice something that he didn't? were they in danger?
he blinks, when she talks, and demands that he be honest with her. and roy's brow furrows, slightly, because riza is probably the only person he can't get away with lying to, because she always knows exactly what's on his mind. but as she keeps talking, and emphasizes the lack of sleep, and then asks him to clarify, that roy seems to get what she's asking of him.
he opens his mouth to repeat exactly what he said before (which, he felt, was a pretty honest answer), before he sighs, and has the grace and dignity to look exasperated as he crosses his arms. he, too, hasn't slept recently, and this entire conversation is likely the product of his stupid brain cells not working properly due to sleep deprivation, but . . . too late, now. ]
Riza.
[ her name is said almost accusingly, playfully frustrated, as he unfolds his arms again to put into his pockets. fidgeting, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. this is embarrassing, and he probably could have picked a better time to deal with all of this, but no, roy had to open his mouth and just say it because, why, life is short? what an idiotic --
why was he even embarrassed in the first place? it wasn't as if riza hadn't seen him at his worst, and she had, far worse than a stupid rambling confession. what was he so afraid of, rejection? from her? the concept was impossible to him, not because he was confident in himself, necessarily, but their connection to one another was so deep, and complicated, and complex that it was hard envisioning life without her. there was no life, really, without her, and he had already told her that, hadn't he?
he had only been forced to perform human transmutation because he had refused, because riza had told him not to do it, because she was his guiding path, the person who kept him on track, and made him a good person, a better person, one that was focused on rebuilding, and correcting the sins of the past. it has always been her, so why can't he just say that.
because you're sworn to protect her. because you promised to keep her safe, and you've failed, for the most part. because you've nearly gotten her killed, time, and time, and time again. because she's already promised too much to you, and you can't ask her to give more. because you're not meant to have some semblance of domestic happiness; you're meant for something greater than that. because your paths don't intertwine that completely; eventually, you're going to have to say goodbye.
it's hard to say, really, whether the whispers in his ear are his own insecurities, or the ship playing on his mind. either way, roy steadfastly ignores them, and says, as evenly as he can: ]
I . . . that is a good question. [ with half a laugh, exhaling softly before fidgeting with something in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next. ] I usually have something to say for every possible scenario, but today has failed me . . . I am trying to say that I probably should have picked a better time to do this, but whenever I'm impatient, I usually ask you what I should do. You typically tell me why I shouldn't do something impulsive and stupid, and I usually listen. But I couldn't ask you [ and roy removes a hand from his pocket to gesture toward her ] what to do about this [ and he gestures at the space between them ] because that would defeat the purpose, but I guess I'm doing it anyway because I'm hopeless, at this, and in general. And I know I still haven't answered your question.
[ he pauses, at that, before he shrugs his shoulders, another (tired) laugh escaping. and, a little sheepish in tone, but overall, genuinely (with only the slightest hint of hesitation before speaking, as confidently as he can manage, though riza can probably tell he's nervous, and it's a complete and utter fake confidence, in comparison to his usual boastful ease): ]
I'm trying to ask whether you'll, firstly, swear that the last twenty minutes never happened, and secondly, allow me to take you out to dinner once we arrive somewhere that isn't a complete nightmare.
[ this was not how he envisioned this going in his head whatsoever but it could be worse. probably.
no subject
he blinks, when she talks, and demands that he be honest with her. and roy's brow furrows, slightly, because riza is probably the only person he can't get away with lying to, because she always knows exactly what's on his mind. but as she keeps talking, and emphasizes the lack of sleep, and then asks him to clarify, that roy seems to get what she's asking of him.
he opens his mouth to repeat exactly what he said before (which, he felt, was a pretty honest answer), before he sighs, and has the grace and dignity to look exasperated as he crosses his arms. he, too, hasn't slept recently, and this entire conversation is likely the product of his stupid brain cells not working properly due to sleep deprivation, but . . . too late, now. ]
Riza.
[ her name is said almost accusingly, playfully frustrated, as he unfolds his arms again to put into his pockets. fidgeting, not entirely sure what to do with his hands. this is embarrassing, and he probably could have picked a better time to deal with all of this, but no, roy had to open his mouth and just say it because, why, life is short? what an idiotic --
why was he even embarrassed in the first place? it wasn't as if riza hadn't seen him at his worst, and she had, far worse than a stupid rambling confession. what was he so afraid of, rejection? from her? the concept was impossible to him, not because he was confident in himself, necessarily, but their connection to one another was so deep, and complicated, and complex that it was hard envisioning life without her. there was no life, really, without her, and he had already told her that, hadn't he?
he had only been forced to perform human transmutation because he had refused, because riza had told him not to do it, because she was his guiding path, the person who kept him on track, and made him a good person, a better person, one that was focused on rebuilding, and correcting the sins of the past. it has always been her, so why can't he just say that.
because you're sworn to protect her. because you promised to keep her safe, and you've failed, for the most part. because you've nearly gotten her killed, time, and time, and time again. because she's already promised too much to you, and you can't ask her to give more. because you're not meant to have some semblance of domestic happiness; you're meant for something greater than that. because your paths don't intertwine that completely; eventually, you're going to have to say goodbye.
it's hard to say, really, whether the whispers in his ear are his own insecurities, or the ship playing on his mind. either way, roy steadfastly ignores them, and says, as evenly as he can: ]
I . . . that is a good question. [ with half a laugh, exhaling softly before fidgeting with something in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next. ] I usually have something to say for every possible scenario, but today has failed me . . . I am trying to say that I probably should have picked a better time to do this, but whenever I'm impatient, I usually ask you what I should do. You typically tell me why I shouldn't do something impulsive and stupid, and I usually listen. But I couldn't ask you [ and roy removes a hand from his pocket to gesture toward her ] what to do about this [ and he gestures at the space between them ] because that would defeat the purpose, but I guess I'm doing it anyway because I'm hopeless, at this, and in general. And I know I still haven't answered your question.
[ he pauses, at that, before he shrugs his shoulders, another (tired) laugh escaping. and, a little sheepish in tone, but overall, genuinely (with only the slightest hint of hesitation before speaking, as confidently as he can manage, though riza can probably tell he's nervous, and it's a complete and utter fake confidence, in comparison to his usual boastful ease): ]
I'm trying to ask whether you'll, firstly, swear that the last twenty minutes never happened, and secondly, allow me to take you out to dinner once we arrive somewhere that isn't a complete nightmare.
[ this was not how he envisioned this going in his head whatsoever but it could be worse. probably.
help]