It sinks in slowly, and the sheer weight of the other man’s words makes Mustang’s skin crawl. Free will? Not really, but he understands the cost of acting on his feelings -- he always has, and it’s especially vital here and now.
If he has an advantage in this situation -- it comes via the military. He knows how to take orders, how to subsume his own needs in favor of the person with more authority. Roy doesn’t like doing it, but he does know how.
Apparently, that's the only thing he can do to survive here. He frowns, but ultimately, he’ll do what he must on the off-chance he might one day find a way home. It's imperative he complies if he wants his mind to remain intact.
“Huh. I have no choice.” Roy’s frown deepens as the idea that any Dom could use him if he isn't under the protection of one sinks deep into his skin. He feels it the moment it breaks free from its compartment, pebbling him with anxious goose pimples.
Roy swallows those feelings carefully setting his expression into one of calm, despite his need to rail against the unfairness of it all. He accepts the situation as dire and uncomfortable as it is. For now, he’ll focus on getting clothed and eating. He's hungry, looking longingly as they pass restaurant after restaurant and wonders where he’s housed. He has nothing, not his clothes, and only such information as Vrenille is willing to share.
Mustang looks to the other man, wondering why he’d rescue him at all, and then reminds himself the man saved him from being whipped at the gallery. There’s no reason for him not to trust the other man. It’s a bad habit he’s gotten into in the military, where it was necessary.
Roy suppresses a sigh. “I don’t know where I live. Is there anywhere we can go to find out?” Roy just hopes he won’t remain in the paper gown for much longer.
no subject
If he has an advantage in this situation -- it comes via the military. He knows how to take orders, how to subsume his own needs in favor of the person with more authority. Roy doesn’t like doing it, but he does know how.
Apparently, that's the only thing he can do to survive here. He frowns, but ultimately, he’ll do what he must on the off-chance he might one day find a way home. It's imperative he complies if he wants his mind to remain intact.
“Huh. I have no choice.” Roy’s frown deepens as the idea that any Dom could use him if he isn't under the protection of one sinks deep into his skin. He feels it the moment it breaks free from its compartment, pebbling him with anxious goose pimples.
Roy swallows those feelings carefully setting his expression into one of calm, despite his need to rail against the unfairness of it all. He accepts the situation as dire and uncomfortable as it is. For now, he’ll focus on getting clothed and eating. He's hungry, looking longingly as they pass restaurant after restaurant and wonders where he’s housed. He has nothing, not his clothes, and only such information as Vrenille is willing to share.
Mustang looks to the other man, wondering why he’d rescue him at all, and then reminds himself the man saved him from being whipped at the gallery. There’s no reason for him not to trust the other man. It’s a bad habit he’s gotten into in the military, where it was necessary.
Roy suppresses a sigh. “I don’t know where I live. Is there anywhere we can go to find out?” Roy just hopes he won’t remain in the paper gown for much longer.