#[ not my actually researching alchemy stuff TuT but it was fun hope this isn't too much! ]

[of-elitiism]

Qistina towered over him in so many aspects; through her military rank, her knowledge and passion of the occult sciences, the very gaze of those crimson eyes, the color of freshly spilled blood, as they followed him around the office, she was, in every right, her superior and he ought to respect her as such. However, there is a stray thought in this simple man's brain, running away with the notion that she seemed awfully petite from up close. A simple, yet very elegant woman who's delicate hands grasped the thick book she was given with the utmost grace. His bearded chin tilted almost all the way down as Marcus stared down at her from behind his glasses, blinking almost confused at the sound of her gratitude. But the spell is broken when she called out to his reason for being here.

"...Yes, about that," the man cleared her throat as he took a decent step backwards, also instinctively pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "I just--- wanted to verify something with you before i continue my research," there's a large file he'd held pressed against his chest all the while which, when flipped open, is filled with different specimens of manuscripts each nicely separated by a protective film and arranged in a meticulous order. Flipping through the pages, he stopped on a particularly damaged one, the yellowed paper torn and fraying underneath the aged ink scribbles. Unto the protective film there's a newer piece of paper filled with his notes and annotations.

"...This one, over here---" cradling the file unto his thick forearm, Marcus leans in again, his attention lowered unto the writings. "...This was brought in from Drachma last Monday. It's supposedly part of the Amestrisan First Scrolls, dating back to the 1750s. Which, given the condition it is quite possible, but i have my doubts the writing here is correct. See these symbols here? These lines aren't consistent with rest..."

"...This here bothers me... Aqua regia, nitro-hydrochloric acid, 🜆. I think it was originally meant as aqua fortis, nitric acid 🜅, but i'm not sure it makes sense in this equation. I think the original has been tampered with." the changes are subtle enough only someone with his kind of expertise might notice them. It's also part why he's gotten the reputation of being overwhelmingly exhausting and taking a long time whenever he's doing his translations. Not to mention, he'd so passionately explained his train of thought he didn't even realize how close in he leaned to her, again brushing his arm right up against hers. "Is there--- any alchemical process we could interfere with to restore this? I could use distilled water, but the paper is too old, it would cause too much tearing."

@of-elitiism sent a letter:

[ Marcus, scholar/fma verse ] Working together was... definitely an experience he couldn't really compare to anything else he'd been through. Qistina was kind enough to offer him a desk of his own and several bookshelves for him to organize all of his documents so it wasn't that they were breathing unto each other's backs. But they did cross paths relatively often, several times every single day. And each time he would acknowledge her, be it with a small nod and smile, a slight wave of hand or even a spoken remark. Other than that, just a simple, ordinary work environment, but with an extraordinarily intimidating alchemist woman for a colleague.

This time he'd sought off her assistance, needing some specifications over some symbols that were slightly faded and slightly confused him as he took notes to translate it. And, from the looks of it, she too was slightly amiss; instead of a straight answer she needed to consult a book it seems. A book that's slightly too high up on the shelf. Marcus reacted almost entirely by instinct, leaning a little bit into her personal bubble to reach up and pull out the heavy tome by its spine. It's quite heavy, but his muscular arm is capable of holding unto the weight easily, giving away only a slight grunt from the back of his throat as he steadily lowered it to her level. Only then he realized he was brushing up his chest against her shoulder.

"Umm... ahem, is---this the one you needed?"

―  🜛  ―   day by day she conducts herself in professional silence. Speaking when the ants refuse to toe the line appropriately, when questions are directed toward her, when she is in need of something she doesn't feel like getting herself  ―  not of laziness, but of necessity to her more pressing works. So having a man in the office in this manner was not too out of the ordinary, though she'd prefer it to be only herself. She could hear him coming toward her with a book, and supposed that continuing with her shuffling and notetakings would be alright ― that he would speak regardless of her current actions.

The soft footfalls rise in their hymns, traveling closer until the rise and fall of his breath can be heard without strain. Without question, he had stepped closer with naught a shred of fear for himself or what ire he may bring from this General. He watched her struggling and thought himself enough of a gentleman to assist her. Quite honestly, in that short gesture, she had become quite charmed by him. His scent was pleasant and masculine, and his height was all the more appealing. . . her hand dropped slowly from the book, returning to rest atop her chest and calm her wandering heart from such closeness. 

    " It is. Thank you. "    the hand that had stifled the anxious heart reached over her shoulder without a second glance, trying hard to ignore the faint heat rising in her cheeks from his sudden proximity.   " Oh. Goodness, what was it you wished to ask me? "