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pandora_culpaTitle: The Lieutenant's Reply To the Insubordinate
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
pandoraculpa
Word Count: 249
Rating: G-ish (good grief, there's not even foul language!)
Characters: Havoc, Breda, and...
Summary: It really is for the best to do as you're told.
A/N: Written for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fma_fic_contest, for the prompt 'giving orders.' Won second place! And I really can see this happening. Hee! Thanks go to truths_in_lies for her handy dandy beta job. :)
Banner bydarkblysse
“She's gonna kill you, y'know.”
Looking up from the newly-lit cigarette, Havoc shrugged and took a puff. “She's not here,” he pointed out. “And besides, these are just wargames.”
Breda shook his head, hunkering down behind a tree with his rifle across his knees. “That's not the point. Hawkeye told you not to smoke, and if she finds out there's gonna be hell to pay.”
“Aw, c'mon. No one's gonna see the smoke. It's a dumb rule, right?”
“Not my call, buddy. I just think you oughta do what the Lieutenant told you.” Breda gave the taller man a smirk and a wink. “Self-preservation.”
Havoc took another deep, smoke-filled breath and grinned like a naughty schoolboy. “She can't punish what she doesn't see. You're not gonna tell on me, are ya?”
“No, but...”
The lit end of the cigarette abruptly exploded, showering the Lieutenant with sparks and tobacco. Havoc yelped in surprise, the ruined butt falling from his lips and a few moments later the muffled cough of a silenced gun sounded in the distance. Breda nearly choked with laughter while Havoc cursed in frustration about goddamn scoped rifles.
“Wha- what'd I tell ya?” the red-haired man wheezed between heaving guffaws. “Now she'll be twice as mad, 'cause she'll have to change positions! You're a dead man!”
Havoc stared mournfully down at the shredded remains of his cigarette, but then brightened. “The condemned get one last smoke, right?”
Author:
pandoraculpaWord Count: 249
Rating: G-ish (good grief, there's not even foul language!)
Characters: Havoc, Breda, and...
Summary: It really is for the best to do as you're told.
A/N: Written for the
fma_fic_contest, for the prompt 'giving orders.' Won second place! And I really can see this happening. Hee! Thanks go to truths_in_lies for her handy dandy beta job. :)Banner by
darkblysse“She's gonna kill you, y'know.”
Looking up from the newly-lit cigarette, Havoc shrugged and took a puff. “She's not here,” he pointed out. “And besides, these are just wargames.”
Breda shook his head, hunkering down behind a tree with his rifle across his knees. “That's not the point. Hawkeye told you not to smoke, and if she finds out there's gonna be hell to pay.”
“Aw, c'mon. No one's gonna see the smoke. It's a dumb rule, right?”
“Not my call, buddy. I just think you oughta do what the Lieutenant told you.” Breda gave the taller man a smirk and a wink. “Self-preservation.”
Havoc took another deep, smoke-filled breath and grinned like a naughty schoolboy. “She can't punish what she doesn't see. You're not gonna tell on me, are ya?”
“No, but...”
The lit end of the cigarette abruptly exploded, showering the Lieutenant with sparks and tobacco. Havoc yelped in surprise, the ruined butt falling from his lips and a few moments later the muffled cough of a silenced gun sounded in the distance. Breda nearly choked with laughter while Havoc cursed in frustration about goddamn scoped rifles.
“Wha- what'd I tell ya?” the red-haired man wheezed between heaving guffaws. “Now she'll be twice as mad, 'cause she'll have to change positions! You're a dead man!”
Havoc stared mournfully down at the shredded remains of his cigarette, but then brightened. “The condemned get one last smoke, right?”
