Perhaps 'hot' was too tame a word to describe the climate's current assault upon the encamped Amestris army
It was a hot day. The sun was giving the desert its undivided attention, glittering down on sand that was seriously considering changing to glass. The slight breeze had recently given up its casual drifting as futile and all wildlife had long since retreated as far underground as possible.
His mind heavy with wistful thoughts of cool breezes, rainfall, and deciduous trees Roy tried his best to lie completely still. Perhaps 'hot' was too tame a word to describe the climate's current assault upon the encamped Amestris army. In the middle of his contemplative search for an appropriately descriptive, and vaguely poetic, word to describe the weather, Roy was tricked into startled movement by the feel of a hand brushing across his thigh.
There was an utterly unrepentant smile on the other man's face, a distinct gleam in pale eyes, and then Maes reached out again and brushed a not-so-innocent hand across an almost indecent portion of Roy's leg. "Yes?"
Roy snorted, primly crossing his legs in an attempt to ignore his groin's sudden interest in the proceedings. "Stop that."
"Its too damn hot."
"If we moved around and sweated a bit we would feel cooler." Maes intoned, managing to look perfectly, helpfully professional.
"Sweat just makes it worse."
"You, my friend, are mistaking this for somewhere with humidity." Maes leaned over and pressed a rather sloppy kiss onto Roy's cheek. "I am betting you the more we sweat the better we will feel."
"Its never worked before."
"Ah, that's because you had your uniform on."
Roy raised an eyebrow. "Maes..."
Gooseflesh that had nothing to do with the temperature prickled at Roy's skin. "I hate it when you say that."