#windyasylum

"Why don't you ask the Lieutenant? She's never got plans."

Fuery couldn't even stammer an apology or an invitation. His face was beet red and the way his gaze had skirted to the window nearby made it seem like he preferred the prospect of jumping out of the thing than asking Riza Hawkeye to anything--much less his cousin's wedding.

Luckily, she was feeling generous. "Actually, I'm seeing someone."

The entire office went silent. Well, except for the distinct sound of the Colonel choking on his latest sip of coffee.

"So you met someone new, eh?" Havoc finally said, with a flash of his usual smirk.

"No," she said, steel resolve not even allowing the subtlest hint of a smile on her own face. "It's been going on for months. We're very discreet." Her gaze was just begging one of them - any of them - to challenge it.

They took the bait.

"Is he local?" Breda asked.

"He's lived in Central his whole life," she replied casually, forcibly keeping any flicker of amusement about all this from her voice and still from her face.

"Military?" chimed in Falman.

"He has better combat skills than most of you," earned a whole roomful of pale faces and sweaty palms.

"Is he h-handsome?" finally came from Fuery, whose stammering matched the blush still in his cheeks.

This time, she let just a hint of a smile tug at one corner of her mouth. "He has a distinct look that I think most women can appreciate."

That seemed enough to convince them, and the fact that the Colonel none-too-politely reminded them all that talking about personal details was better left for lunch breaks. She went back to work inwardly commending herself for a job well done. They'd be poking their noses back in before too long, but...

- - -

"Hopefully that bought me some time," she said with a warmer smile when she finally returned home that evening, as that special "someone" greeted her at the door--tail wagging and everything.