It's one of those nights again.
Roy and Riza aren't sure how this became a regular event to them. A chance meeting one night turned into another impossibly coincidental meeting exactly one week later and now, now these nights are reserved for the chances when they can actually walk to either one of their apartments together without fear of being spotted. It's been a while since they last did this, since their hands last danced on each other's skin and their lips last met in a passionate kiss. It's impossible to see this fact, however, in the fluidity and confidence of their actions, how precise and practiced each gesture is.
It's the build-up to the timeless dance, the dance that could very well bring the performers to their ultimate downfall.
Despite the kinetic energy passing between them, energy that only seems to crescendo as each breath becomes heavier and each touch lingers just a bit more than the last, Riza briefly pulls away from the kiss, from the attention of Roy's hands on her. Taking the guns from her holster, she places them on the small coffee table and, with a small smile, turns back to Roy. He looks at her, his confusion over her actions etched on his face. Before she places her lips back onto his, her smile turns coy and she reminds him of an known, but previously unspoken, rule when it came to these nights in Riza's apartment.
'No firearms in the bedroom.'