Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ Blue Willow Tea Set ❯ One-Shot

Blue Willow Tea Set

 

“Have a seat, Mr. Hall.”

“Thank you for your hospitality Mr. Black, but I'm afraid that won't be necessary.”

“Come on, we won't take long. A little chat won't do you any harm; would it, Mr. Hall?”

“No, of course not, Mr. Black…I think I'll sit down and have a chat with you; but only for a little while. I really am in a hurry.”

The sound of a chair scraping the wooden floor was heard, and then the rustling of fabric. The chair complained noisily as Mr. Hall put his weight on it. The other man casually crossed his legs and reached at the coffee table for his pipe.

The two men were in a private booth in a posh restaurant. The booth screamed of elegance, with its lavish window treatment, rare, antique furniture and highly polished wooden flooring. However, the two men did not notice any of these. They were too concerned about the meeting that was about to take place.

“Would you care for some tea?” Mr. Black offered, gesturing to a fine Blue Willow teapot and two matching tea cups. “It is the finest Earl Grey,” he added as he lightly tapped his pipe.

“Yes, I think some refreshing tea would do just fine,” said the other man as he took off his gloves and stuffed them inside his trouser pocket.

Mr. Hall lifted the teapot off its tray and poured some of the steaming brown liquid on a teacup. As Mr. Black continued to smoke with his pipe, he noticed that his companion's eyes were in a glassy grey colour. He assumed that the man was in deep thought. He watched in amusement as Mr. Tucker's shaking hands nearly dropped the teapot and cursed as scalding tea met his skin.

“Why so jittery, Mr. Hall?” he asked. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward in mild interest.

The man hastily returned the teapot on the tray and grabbed the filled tea cup with both hands. He sipped once, and then said:

“It is nothing to worry about, Mr. Black. I just have one of those seasonal chills, you know? Everybody gets those,” his mellow voice laced with fear.

“Ah, yes of course,” agreed Mr. Black. “Seasonal chills. What else could it be anyway?” he put his pipe down and straightened his posture. He pushed by a stray strand of hair that bore his name and brushed his coat of imaginary dust.

“Why did you ask me to come here?” asked Mr. Hall, setting his tea cup down, making a satisfying little chink as china met ebony. He wanted this to be over right away; he hated being with enigmatic men like Mr. Black.

“I just wanted your opinion about the incident last night,” said Mr. Black in a voice so calm it was disturbing.

“W-what ha-happened?” stammered Mr. Hall, his bushy moustache quivering, even though both of them knew exactly what Mr. Black was talking about.

“If I were you, I wouldn't act so innocently,” continued Mr. Black, his thin lips curling into a smirk. He slowly left the chaise lounge he was sitting at and stood up, placing a hand on his left hip.

“You know as well as I do that you were involved in that conspiracy, Mr. Hall,” Mr. Black's tone changed from calm to venomous. His eyes, Mr. Tucker saw, were full of—fire? Anger, perhaps?

His panicking mind was screaming to him to get out of the booth and run away, but his feet were recalcitrant. It was as if he was standing on a pool of tar.

“I-I don't know what y-you're talking about!” shrieked a now fully terrified Mr. Hall. He was at his wit's end; he did not know anything else to say or do aside from denying, shrieking and panicking. He kicked at his chair, making it scrape loudly with the floor. His kicking was so violent that the chair tipped over and set the person sitting on it sprawling to the ground. Mr. Tucker saw stars.

When the flashing stars finally subsided, Mr. Hall shook his head and looked up at the still smirking younger man looking down at him. Their eyes met. The last thing he saw was Mr. Black's emotionless, onyx eyes.

 

 

MORNING HERALD

 

 

Obituary

 

John Harold Hall III

Passed away in the Grace of our Lord on

17th November, 1910

 

He is survived by his father John Harold II; brothers Albert and Reuben; sister Marie Elisabeth; sisters-in-law Rosé and Anne as well as nephews and nieces. They and other relatives request the pious readers to pray for the eternal repose of his soul.

 

His remains lie in state at the Chapel of St Cecilia

Upper Huntington Memorial Park, 1213 Huntington until

Sunday, 20th November, 1910.