melting ice cubes in your hands

'I don't do well in the cold, okay?'

There aren't any words to describe the all-encompassing feeling of dread that washes over him, then. Guilt sits slimy in the spaces between his molars and leaves an acrid trail down his throat, pooling heavily in the deepest pits of his stomach. Roy Mustang stood against evil, but it seemed that it didn't protect him from being evil himself. No, it most certainly did not make him good.

-or-

Roy has a bad day, so when Edward is protesting attending a mission in the north, he assumes it to be petulance. An argument ensues, Roy says things he shouldn't, and subsequently he ends up scrambling to keep Edward from freezing to death by the Drachman border.

Roy shifted in his seat restlessly, cradling his head in his hand. The sun pouring through the windows mocked him, burning his eyes and casting a shadow of the everlasting pile of paperwork