"I need a nine-letter word for 'air-powered'. Starts with p-n."
"Pneumatic."
Breda's pencil scratched against newsprint. It was a slow Monday morning at East Military Headquarters. As usual, Colonel Mustang was last to arrive.
"What about 'contains pigs… or not'? Four letters."
Lieutenant Hawkeye walked past on the way to her desk, her first cup of coffee in her hand. "What's that smell?"
Lieutenant Havoc held up a bottle. "Oh, right. Can I get your opinion on this, guys? I heard this cologne was the latest thing from Xing. Do you think it's too much for a first date?"
Colonel Mustang walked in. "Lieutenant Havoc, did you leave your lunch in your desk again?"
"No, Colonel. It's cologne." Havoc held up the bottle for the colonel's inspection.
"Poke," Falman answered.
The colonel's face wrinkled up like it was trying to flee as far as possible from Havoc's cologne. "Take it out of this office. It smells like a fire hazard wrapped in horny ferret."
Havoc looked to the rest of the office, all trying to school their expressions. Only Hawkeye was completely successful. "Well, there went today's pay. Last time I buy cologne from the pharmacy." He sighed and left, the bottle under his arm. Fuery let out the breath he was holding.
"Eight-letter word for 'downhearted'. Third letter is j"
"Do your own crossword, Breda."
"That's too many letters, Falman."