Ed stared at him, gaze flat and unimpressed. "What the fuck are you wearing." It wasn't even a question.

Roy lifted one eyebrow and ran a hand over his gel-coated hair. "Today's casual day," he said, shrugging.

"Does the military even *have* casual day?" Ed asked plaintively, staring towards the heavens. "Because I'm pretty sure they don't. It's, you know, this professional organization with an image to maintain..."

But his question went sadly unanswered by higher powers and the fourth wall remained intact.

"Really, Fullmetal," Roy chided, snagging his leather jacket off a chair and throwing it on over his white tanktop. "Considering that every day is casual day with you, you could learn to let it go on the one day a year that everyone else wears more comfortable clothing."

Ed steamed. "It's not my fault I can't wear the uniform," he hissed.

Roy smirked. "No, I suppose it isn't. Who could have anticipated how difficult it would be to order a uniform in extra-extra-small?"

Hawkeye separated them with a well-timed warning shot. "Gentlemen, please," she said, long-suffering as she tucked her gun back into the waist of her yellow sweatsuit.

Fuming, Ed pointed out the window. "And how does casual day explain that?"

Roy glanced out, an eyebrow raised. Havoc was sitting on the hood of Roy's personal vehicle, in jeans and a white t-shirt as women from the secretarial pool hosed him down. The faint sound of his singing drifted through the window: You know I ain't braggin / she's a real pussy wagon...

"Ah," Roy said. "That was General Hakuro's idea."