Roy valued his evenings. They were his and his alone, to do with what he willed. He could spend the time researching his passion of flame alchemy, read a book, go for a walk, or even catch up on paperwork when he wasn't sure if he would meet Hawkeye's deadlines. He enjoyed the peace and quiet of putting on a good record and sipping a hot drink, the sounds of his pen scratching across paper, the warm peace he tried to make his home exude to keep away the bad memories and nightmares.
The knock at his door was both unexpected and unwelcomed.
Hughes. It had to be. No one else was this bothersome.
He studiously ignored it, hoping against hope t