Roy Mustang | 𝐎𝐎3

Although the nurses were beautiful and the food decent, Roy Mustang tried to avoid the military hospital next to Central Command at all costs.

He wasn't entirely sure why. Perhaps it was the unpleasantly pristine interior, despite the psychological stain of bloodshed, or the overwhelming smell of antiseptic that clung to the air.

Maybe he just felt guilty.

... He tried not to think too much about it.

A sharp grunt escaped his lips when your cold hands brushed against his poor attempt at cauterization, his chest tightening from the pain blooming beneath his burned skin.

"Would it kill you to be a little more careful?" Roy hissed, suppressing a string of curses at the pain climbing through his nerves. "Damn, you're cold."