[ . . . a crown on the door. roy has the memory of the doors, of the truth, burned into his head forever. at the mention of that, he seems to center his focus, to know his place in the room, and he rests a shoulder against the door to give himself a sense of placement.
leo. easy to remember. ] Brigadier General Roy Mustang. [ but he offers a slight wave of a gloved hand, his lips twisting into a frown. ] Roy is fine -- are you alright? Nothing hurt you, on the way in here?
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leo. easy to remember. ] Brigadier General Roy Mustang. [ but he offers a slight wave of a gloved hand, his lips twisting into a frown. ] Roy is fine -- are you alright? Nothing hurt you, on the way in here?