Tolerate

[aspiredeathe]

It was getting dark now, the desk lamps all burning to give that extra light.
Jean Havoc sat at his own desk, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes darted from line to line of the piece of paper in front of him.

He licked his lips as he read the last line, the signature mocking him.
With frustration, he threw the letter to his desk and standing up abruptly.
"Why do I have to go to Lior ?!" He ran his hands through his hair, before reluctantly picking up his chair.
Shifting it under his desk, he patted his pockets down for his cigarettes as he headed for the door.
"I need a damn vacation."He mumbled, pulling the carton out.

[insanity]

"You got drafted to Liore as well huh?" A smooth voice drawled. "That damned Archer never lets me rest anymore..." Kimbley leaned against the wall just outside the room, holding his own draft letter, crumpled in his hand. "Toss me a cigarette, will ya? I actually need one for once."

[aspiredeathe]

Jean would normally refuse, not wanting to interact with the man more than necessary. But the guy was going through the same 'issues' as him.
He felt they were somehow in it together, however depressing that sounded.

He tossed the cigarette in his fingers to the slim man, getting another for himself.
"I don't see why they're sending us. Those people want nothing to do with us, from what I hear."He sighed, placing the cigarette in between his lips as he closed the door behind him.
He walked down the hallway, not really caring if Kimblee followed or not.

[insanity]

"Got a light?" Kimbley mumbled, trailing behind Havoc. "Anyway, I've got a feeling tha this is just gonna be a repeat of Ishbal, judging from how Archer's been carrying on..."

[aspiredeathe]

Jean pulled a box of matches form his pocket and shook it with a grin.
As they got outside, he lit his cig first before throwing the box to Kimblee, leaning against the wall as he took a drag.

As he breathed out the smoke, he turned his head to his colleague, a grim look on his face.
"I'd rather it not end up like that damn war." He doubted whether the other man would mind, knowing him to love using his alchemy.

[insanity]

"Weird to say, but same here. I had fun in Ishbal, but I don't plan on oing back to Solitary Confinement on Death Row. I'm quite fond of having acess to a shower...a shower NOT overrun by sodomites, that is." He took a match and struck it. He took a dep drag, waited, then exhaled. "Oooh, yeah," he breathed, smoke expeling from his mouth and nostrils. "I've missed this."

[aspiredeathe]

Jean ignored the Ishbal comment, knowing that anything he'd said would only ensue into a conversation he did not want to have.
"I just don't see the point. Those people believe in their faith to much to even give us a chance to help." He said regrettably as he inhaled yet again.

"According to the orders, they're expecting us two to stop a rebellion. I don't really see that happening." He cast a side glance to Kimblee.

[insanity]

Kimbley scoffed. "Neither do I. All I can see is another war erupting right on top of the one taking place between the Leto followers and the rebels." He took another drag, the embers glowing orange, then fading. "Besides, we're only two soldiers. The odds of us getting out alive are slim and nil. Archer will be archiving our autopsy files instead of our report-ins."

[aspiredeathe]

Jean laughed.
Although it came from Kimblee, that it was an idea of the most probable situation and a very grave idea indeed, he somehow found it funny and could very much imagine Archer picking out the autopsy reports from a stack of files and filing them away into some cabinet.
"We're just gonna have to make the best of it." He tipped some of the ash of the end of his cigarette before adding " And try not to get killed in the process."

[insanity]

Kimbley snorted. "Fat chance of that, if that Ishbalan is truly taking refuge there. Anyone wearing a uniform is mere fodder to him," he explained. "But hey, we may just get lucky and be overlooked."

[aspiredeathe]

Jean nodded in response, they were walking ducks. Especially Kimblee, being an alchemist. Which was, truth be told, more in his favor.
"Unless we go incognito?" He offered, his mind going back to the rebels.

[insanity]

Kimbley pondered that thought, the turned to the blond. "What do you have in mind? Dress in Liore garb?" He scratched the back of his head. "What about our skin colour? I mean," he spread his arms. "I'm not exactly Liore colouring here, and neither are you." Indeed, both soldiers were very pale skinned, Kimbley even more so, having spent so much time locked in a cell with no sunlight.

[aspiredeathe]

Jean rubbed his chin. Their skin colour was a problem.
"Go as traders? Travellers? Just leave our uniforms at home and it shouldn't really matter, I guess." He took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it to the ground, stomping it out with the toe of his boot.

[insanity]

"Yeah, that's more plausible," Kimbley agreed. "But what about the wares? What would we sell?" Kimbley took one last hit off his cigarette before flicking it away. "Maybe spices, from the plantations we 'own'?"

[aspiredeathe]

It was Jean´s turn to snort.
"Bad idea. They might question us about the spices. I dunno about you, but my spice vocabulary doesn´t go further than salt and pepper." He rubbed his chin in thought, making a mental note to shave when he got home tonight.

"It can´t be something specialized. They´d figure us out too easily." Was all he could come up with after a moment of silence. Maybe they should check with their superiors? After all, they couldn´t just be sent out without proper preparations, right?

[insanity]

"Let's just ask Archer," Kimbley deadpanned. "I'm out of ideas." He threw his arms in the air, at a loss. Colvert missions just weren't his forte. He sighed, grimacing at the nasty aftertaste the cigarette left. Now he remembered why he seldom smoked.

[aspiredeathe]

With a nod, Jean gestured towards the door, not knowing where Frank Archer would be holing up.
Frankly, he didn't even want to know, let alone think about that.
If possible, he'd have preferred to stop by Mustang, but the man seemed to have disappeared during the day.
Leaving all his paperwork to me.. The inner Havoc wailed, tearing his hair out at the reminder of the brain-killing reports and files he'd had to read today.

[insanity]

*sorry for the long pause of inactivity, my computer broke on me.*

"Where's your superior, Col. Clydesdale, skulking off at?" Kimbley asked, forgetting Mustang's name. All he remembered was that he was named after a horse, of all things.

[aspiredeathe]

Jean ran a hand through his hair with a slight chuckle.
"Eh, I guess he's out on a mission."What he really meant was 'He better not be out on a date.' Yet Kimblee didn't need to know that.
"We better go see Archer, him being the one sending us out and all."He frowned as he headed inside.
Why did Mustang agree to letting Archer boss him about? Unless there was something going on in Lior that he wanted checked out..
But if that's the case, what the hell does he want me to do then..? His eyebrows furrowed even more in frustration.
"God I need a holiday." He whined as he trudged through the corridors.

[Zolf J Kimblee]

Kimblee strolled after Havoc casually, hands in his pockets. He didn't know him well, and wondered why he'd been assigned to go to Lior, under cover, of all things. There weren't many people running around Amestris with transmutation circles on their palms, so he'd have to get gloves to hide them.

"I just finished up a nice 10 year holiday." he chuckled, "in a nice dark room of my own. None of that... pesky daylight creeping in through windows to disturb my sleep and all."

He had a pretty good idea where Frank might be. When he wasn't up to his neck in paperwork, he could usually be found haunting the laboratories, overlooking one of his pet experiements.

"Have you thought of trying lab 5?" he asked.