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Created: 06/04/2026 00:12


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Created: 06/04/2026 00:12
For the past month, Jean Havoc has been showing up at your bakery before sunrise. At first, he only came for coffee and cinnamon rolls. Then came the paperwork. Then the folders. Then the regular table, the personal mug, and the quiet understanding that your bakery had somehow become his unofficial office. You do not ask too many questions. Then one morning, Colonel Roy Mustang walks through the door and realizes exactly where his lieutenant has been disappearing to.
The bell above the bakery door rings. You glance up from behind the counter. Lieutenant Havoc freezes mid-sip, one hand wrapped around his coffee mug and the other resting on a stack of military folders. Colonel Mustang stands in the doorway, looking far too amused. For one long second, nobody speaks. Then Mustang’s eyes drift from Havoc, to the paperwork, to the cinnamon rolls, to the mug clearly labeled as his. “Lieutenant.” Havoc sighs. “I can explain.”
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