Work Text:
It is plain as day to anyone who looks, even a bit closely, that the Commander isn’t doing well.
It has been 5 days since the Battle of Heaven and Earth, and the sun shows little mercy to the tired refugees of Fort Salta. Between the lurid heat of the day and unbearable cold of the night, Annie, like the rest of the Alliance members, loses herself in the rebuilding efforts. She has found herself a mechanical routine of waking up at the crack of dawn from a nightmare-infested sleep, leaving her quickly warming tent, swallowing crumbs of dry bread and an excuse of a soup, lugging boxes, crates and tending to the wounded, only to return at night to the tent to repeat the routine all over again the next day. 5 days very quickly begins to feel like an eternity under the harsh sun and she doesn't doubt the others feel the same way.
They always gather for a few hours at night, in front of a 20 foot boulder, and sit around the fire in silence, the quiet only punctuated occasionally by Connie’s poor attempts at lightheartedness or Reiner’s coughs. Separated from the rest of the refugees who still stare at them suspiciously a tad too long, they find comfort in sitting together. For those few hours, before the spits and crackling of the flames, they are grateful for one another being alive.
“Isn’t it strange,” Pieck had mentioned on the third night. “How a few weeks ago we would’ve killed each other in seconds, but now we can’t do without this campfire gathering?”
Truly. They were hanging on each day with the promise of a few hours of comradeship at night. But they hadn’t talked about… it . The battle itself, the nightmarish end of it all, continued to be stowed away for another time, a time when, presumably, talking about it wouldn’t tear their hearts out. Still, they were alright, as long as the campfire was lit for the night.
The same couldn’t be said of Armin though.
Annie’s eyes flit to him right then, sitting on the far end opposite her, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together. His eyes are cast down, reflecting the flames but his mind is elsewhere. There are heavy bags under his eyes and his shoulders are far too tense. His fingers are trembling lightly. He sits, but not in the same comfort the others wait all day to relish in. She watches him as he gets up slowly, a tired man struggling to hide his exhaustion.
“I’m calling it a night. Good night guys,” He says, his voice tightly controlled. “See you in the morning. Long day tomorrow.” And with that, Annie and the others watch his retreating back trudge 30 feet away and disappear into his tent.
Annie chews her lip and turns back to gazing at the fire. Of all of them, Armin seemed to be falling apart the fastest. The unraveling inside, coupled with the pressure of leading the rebuilding efforts alongside Muller, was presenting itself in the form of a ticking time bomb that nobody knew when it would implode. For the past five days, Armin had kept himself busy at all times - shutting himself up in the wooden cabin with Muller, drawing up ration plans and allocating resources, holding discussions with the remaining engineers and technicians, visiting the wounded and critical. Once that was done each day, he threw himself into the work of removing debris from the rail-tracks, working himself so hard that Reiner had kicked him out of the group yesterday fearing that Armin would dislocate a shoulder. Jean had tried talking to him, but Armin had brushed him off with a poorly constructed smile.
“He doesn’t sleep,” Jean now says, still looking at Armin’s tent, dimly glowing from within. “I woke up last night for…” He trails off, scratching his chin and everyone nods wordlessly. None of them sleep well after all. “And the lamps were still going. I think he stays up almost all night.”
“I tried talking to him today,” Connie voices, looking grim. “He wouldn’t even let me finish. He told me he was fine but I noticed his hands shaking.”
Reiner sits up straight and exhales. “He’s going to break soon at this rate. He needs to talk to someone. Us boys have tried, but I don’t think he wants to look weak in front of us. Armin has always been very… conscious of that. And more so after becoming Commander.”
Pieck remains silent, clasping and unclasping her fingers. Her eyes stray away from Reiner to rest on Annie.
Annie shifts uncomfortably in her seat, she knows where this is heading, and she’s scared.
“Annie,” Jean is looking straight at her. “You have to get him to talk.”
“I don’t…” Annie croaks, her throat too dry from the heat and exhaustion of the day. “I don't think I’m the right person for that.”
“If there ever was a right person, it’s you. Mikasa’s gone.”
“That doesn’t convince me.”
Connie throws a twig into the fire where the flames cleanly swallow it. “He visited your crystal for years. When he realized that the hardening was undone, the first thing on his mind was you.” His eyes flit to hers. “If that doesn’t convince you, I don't know what will. I’m surprised he hasn't told you already.”
But he has, Annie wants to scream. On the boat. He told me. But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I can’t… I can’t imagine someone like me deserving his love. I can’t watch him suffer with me. I love him too, but I don’t deserve him and it’s breaking me inside to see him in so much pain… but I don’t know what to do.
Instead she shuffles her feet and straightens her back, just the slightest bit. She looks down at her hands, the hands she killed so many people with. And now she’s being asked to comfort someone? Is that something she can even do? Does she deserve to comfort Armin?
She breathes. “What… how do I… What do I even say?”
Jean smiles. “As Armin would say, just be Annie.”
When she wakes up at 5am the next morning, sweating through the chill of the early morning from a nightmare, she finds Armin sitting a few feet away from the edge of the cliff to the East. At first, panic grips her with the fear of thinking he’s about to do something stupid, but her raging heartbeat slows down when she spots the clouds turn pink above the horizon. He’s just watching the sunrise.
“Hey” She softly says, coming up behind him and he turns.
“Annie.” The softness and gentleness of her name from his lips remains unchanged. Armin offers her a smile, though tired, she’s glad to note that it’s genuine. “You're up early.”
“You too.” She sits down next to him, noting that he’s brought a threadbare blanket with him, but isn’t using it.
“Mhmm, I… I wanted to see the sunrise. From here.”
“Are you feeling sentimental?” and Annie wants to slap herself, wishing she had said something gentler, something kinder. She glances at him out of the corner of her eyes, but Armin holds a rueful smile, his eyes painted violet from the hues of the rising sun.
“No, it’s just… I’ve watched the sunrise many times. From inside the walls.” Annie can tell that his voice is slightly lighter but his posture screams contained agony. “And I watched them from the sea in Paradis. I watched them from Marley, when we went to see the outside world. But…” He runs a hand through his hair. “Every time back then… it was with the uncertainty of not knowing whether tomorrow, and the promise of a new sunrise, would come.”
Annie turns to look at him fully and he acknowledges her gaze with a slight nod. “But here I am, watching the sunrise from a new part of the world and… tomorrow will come.”
She inhales, eyes fixated on him. His eyes look unbearably sad and his arms are so tightly wrapped around his knees, she wants to unwrap them and let him breathe. She understands the weight of his words, they all feel it, but at the moment, he probably feels it the most. She thinks Mikasa was selfish in returning to Paradis immediately after and leaving Armin to pick up the shards of a shattered planet. She would say so, too, if she didn’t know that Armin let Mikasa go with full understanding of what it entailed. A lie so heavy on his shoulders, he would have already crumbled under the weight, if he wasn’t Armin.
This is it, she thinks. Right now.
“Armi-”
“Well, I better get up,” Armin clears his throat and moves to get up. “We have to figure out how to restore the rail-tracks to functioning properly,” He stands and glances at Annie a little too briefly for her liking. “You… should eat a little more of your rations. The potatoes aren’t so bad if you just swallow them.”
And he walks away, leaving the blanket by her side, and Annie just stares at him.
So much pain within himself and he was still paying attention to Annie during the days.
If that doesn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.
Truthfully speaking, Annie just wants to talk to him about what he told her on the boat. Prod, pick and break his arguments apart so she can sleep in peace, knowing that after all, he really only did feel sorry for his enemy. But deep inside, she knows that she will never win that argument, because everything he told her that day when the salty breeze licked their skin, is true.
And it becomes clear as much when she catches him looking at her during breakfast and holds the gaze a beat too long.
When she looks away, her face is burning. She knows she only wants to talk about the boat conversation because…
Because she wants to hear him say it again.
She feels selfish, wanting to hear him say he loves her, when clearly, he’s struggling to remain in one piece. As she hauls craters of debris off the railway tracks, she notices him in the distance, hunched over a rickety table, brows pulled tight in concentration as he scribbles something on paper. Her eyes pick out his broader shoulders, his longer legs, his slimmer waist. She turns away, angry at herself for ogling at him when he is in pain. How foolish. She doesn’t know how to do this. She isn’t cut out for this. For love. For romance. To care for someone. It is ridiculous, she will never be able to do it. And if she can, she doesn’t deserve to. So she grits her teeth from the embarrassment of how her blush on the boat had given away everything she felt. She knew he knew. He was too smart to have misinterpreted that. They have to talk about it soon. And Annie, starved of love and affection and understanding, is impatient.
But it can wait until he’s okay, she thinks, watching him direct some of the Marleyan men. It can wait.
So when, during lunch-break, Jean reminds her casually that Armin had waited more than a month to reveal his suspicions about her back in Stohess, she feels her resolve steel.
She would try, if nothing else. Try to see if her unused, rusty, broken sort of love would ever benefit someone as warm as Armin.
“Armin.”
He looks up from a pile of papers in his hand, cross legged in his tent. She swallows before stepping inside.
“Annie.” His voice is strung tight, like a clothesline on high tension. He is too tired to even offer her a smile but she can see the creases of something like it around his eyes. “What brings you here?”
She doesn’t reply as she drops down quietly across from him. She is alight with nerves. They haven’t been alone since the boat conversation. The tent is warm and toasty and too stifling, she thinks. Two lamps sit not far from his knees.
“No reason.” She bites the insides of her cheeks in an effort to not blurt out the wrong things after spending an entire afternoon choosing her words carefully. “Why do you have two lamps?”
“Ah,” Armin scratches the back of his neck. “I… asked Muller for them. The extra light calms me down.” He looks away from her, to the papers in his hand.
Annie takes to watching him, drawing her knees up to her chin. She never did get enough time to admire the way he had grown up, before they were whisked away to fight a battle none of them wanted to fight. His hair is tousled, some strands still hanging damp from the sweat from the day’s work. The haircut looked good on him. His shirt stuck in places to his neck and shoulders in dampness. But Annie doesn’t allow herself to admire any more than that when she notices how sunken his eyes look, the iridescent blue of them faded in what she could only imagine were the horrors plaguing him since the battle ended. Her insides twist in pain because seeing him like this hurts her more than she could ever have imagined.
“You look awful.” Are all the words she manages.
“I’m… I'm alright.” He scratches his nose and looks at her for a second before darting his eyes away under her scrutinizing glare.
“You’re not and it's painfully obvious to all of us. Do you know how worried Jean and Connie are?” Her voice rises a bit higher than she intended and Armin winces.
“There’s nothing to be worried about, Annie. We’re all tired. But we’ll be alright. I’m making sure of it.” He gathers more papers in his hands, as if somehow, that was supposed to validate his argument. Annie huffs in growing irritation and panic. He was not relaxing.
“Yes, because you feel somehow responsible? For everything?” She grips her knees tighter, willing herself to not lose her temper.
Armin looks at her then, properly, and her throat dries up. He might be on the verge of imploding, but he could be incredibly intimidating when he wanted to. His eyes flash in anger. A warning. A subject he doesn’t want to talk about. When Annie drops her eyes, she’s aware that he regrets it immediately, bringing a hand to brush his hair back from his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I just…”
Annie waits for him to finish, but he never does, slumping forward, the heels of his palms digging into his eyes.
She feels the heat creep up into her cheeks. The conversation in her head had seemed so easy, just a collection of words she had to spit out. But in his tent, alone with him, everything is heavier, harder, scarier. She has no idea if it will work. After all, when was she ever good for anything except killing? From the age of 9 until now, she has had little regard for life.
Well, not entirely true. From the moment her father cried for her, her only desire had been to go back home. Home. Nothing else mattered except the little cabin by the creek where she had spent countless nights gritting her teeth in pain at the harsh training her father forced her through. He had beaten her so viciously, but she had been his daughter. She had ruined his knee so badly, but he was still her father. Someone and someplace to call home.
And then when she met Armin, more slowly changed. His optimism had pissed her off because she knew the world he yearned to see didn’t exist. She had wanted to beat him up and scream the truth at him, the world would never be kind to him, only seek to sentence him to death as soon as possible. But he had seen through her ice-cold exterior so quickly that it had thrown her off balance. He had seen within her, a young girl who wanted to be kind and fair, that she was shocked to find it out herself. When he trapped her in Stohess, she had felt so betrayed and hurt but she understood. He came from a world which had yet to find out about the true horrors that existed beyond the walls. And she? She just wanted to go home.
Until she realized that home could also be whenever Armin visited her in the dark dungeon, to speak to her for hours on end. His words kept her sane. She had listened from behind closed eyelids, to his voice as it lowered in register over the course of 4 years. Sometimes she had little understanding of the things he spoke about, but she felt comforted all the same. Sometimes he didn't speak at all, but merely kept her company as he wrote reports and she would listen to the scratch of his pen on paper. During those moments, he had been her home.
She doesn’t doubt anymore that he loves her. She knows she loves him too. But where his words always comforted her in all the right places, her words will fail. But still, she has to try.
“Armin,”
“Yes?”
“Armin.”
“Yes, Annie?”
“Armin.”
He doesn’t answer her anymore, but raises his head to look at her, tired and puzzled. She wants to sink her face into her knees, but she wants him to know. So she rests her chin on the top of her knees and meets his eyes with all the strength she can summon to suppress her inexperience and embarrassment.
“Armin.” His gaze drops from her eyes to her lips momentarily, as she pronounces his name softly.
“I… want to get used to saying your name.” She breathes and his cheeks instantly colour with growing realization. “In a way that makes you feel how much… I care about you.”
Armin inhales, his eyes never leaving hers. But the blush on his cheeks deepens and she’s glad that it makes him look a little less dead. “I can never be good with words like you are. But all the same, I want to try.”
“Annie, I-”
“I’m not done yet,” She raises a palm to stop him and slowly, courage is creeping back into her nervous muscles. She reaches forward and plucks the papers out of his hand and sets them behind her where he can’t reach them.
“I never thought I could care for a person. I was just a tool for Marley after all. Then, there was my father who… he hugged me on that day.” She looks away, twisting a strand of her, aware that Armin was watching her silently. “Told me to come home. And then when my plans failed, I cocooned myself in the crystal for so long, I was sure I’d never feel human anymore. No, stop,” She warns him when Armin swallows in guilt. “It was my own choice. You did your duty and I did mine. I don’t blame you. Really, I want you to believe me. I don’t blame you.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“But when the crystal broke and I could breathe once more… I still felt human. And I would not have, had you not kept me company. Your voice… It was the one thing I looked forward to. The most.” She blushes and hopes the golden light from the lamps would hide her burning cheeks.
Armin’s shoulders are tense and he bites the inside of his lips. He hangs his head for a moment, his hair falling limply over his eyes. Then he inhales a great deep breath, raises his head, and waits again.
Annie counts the remaining of the words she rehearsed all day. But it all goes to shit when she opens her mouth.
“I want to be your home.”
It takes Armin two heartbeats before he gapes in surprise. Suddenly, his trembling hands struggle to find something to be occupied with.
So Annie scoots forward till her knees touch his and she gently takes his hands in hers, turning them over so her palms rest flat against his. Larger hands, kinder hands brush against smaller, calloused ones. They both shiver. Now when she looks at him, she has to tilt her head up considerably. His bright blue eyes are watery, fighting to keep the dam closed.
“If… if you’ll have me. I won’t be as good at it like you, I might even piss you off. But I’ll try. Because I want to be your home.”
“Annie-” He struggles.
“Armin.” She makes sure he sees her lips move with the sound of his name. She’s not sure why, but she’s convinced it will help somehow. “Armin.”
Annie lets go of his hands and brings her hands up to cup his face. Her rehearsed words don’t matter anymore. Her body knows and that’s all that matters. Armin’s rigid shoulders are shaking and his nose was getting redder by the second.
“Armin. You’re not alone.”
And he breaks.
“Eren!” He cries, a wail so painful ripping out of him that Annie has to hold on to him tightly. “Eren!”
He slumps forward into her and she cradles him, her fingers threading through his hair. His arms wrap around her waist and she lets him sob into her chest, tears soaking through her hoodie. Sobs so great, the size of earthquakes wrack his body and she absorbs it all, one hand soft against the back of his head, the other drawing meaningless patterns on his back.
“Eren, I had so much to say to you,” He chokes out. “I… there was so much more to do! Eren!” Gripping the back of her spine, he cries harder and Annie fights to keep her own tears at bay.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” His cries muffle into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry!”
“You’re not alone.” She mumbles into his hair, running her fingers down his back. “You’re not alone Armin.”
“Eren…” He cries. “I don’t want to believe you’re gone-” He devolves into another fit of painful sobs and Annie continues to hold him tight. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry!”
“Armin. Armin.” She whispers into his forehead and squeezes him tight. He’s shaking and shivering and trembling and she’s glad to be alive to take it all. She turns her head and looks at the flap of the tent, her ears picking up what Armin was too lost in his grief to hear. She knew the others were there, listening to Armin’s wails. She stretches her right hand to push it open and her eyes fall on Jean, Connie and Reiner, squatting on the ground, quietly crying, their tears splashing great big drops on the parched ground. Pieck stands a few feet away, her eyes unreadable, gazing up at the sky. When she notices Annie through the door, she nudges Jean with her knee, forcing him to look up as well.
They all pour in wordlessly, and it isn’t long before the three of them crowd around Armin, holding on to him tight, their crying no longer controlled in silence.
“Armin you’re not alone.” Connie weeps, his head between Armin’s shoulder blades. “You have us.” Armin cries harder into Annie’s chest, an arm leaving her waist and grasping the air behind him to feel for Connie. Jean takes it, gripping onto it tightly.
“We can’t lose you.” Jean, resting his head on Armin’s shaking shoulders. “We’re all sorry.”
“You’re the bravest of us all.” Reiner says quietly, his tears glistening on his cheeks. “I’m so sorry too.” And he encircles his arms around Annie and the other two, trapping Armin between them all, and they cry, uninhibited.
For the boy who sought freedom, the boy they once knew, the boy who left them, they cry.
When morning rolls around, Annie wakes first. Her neck is sore and she realizes she’s fallen asleep in an uncomfortable position. When her eyes adjust, she’s alarmed to see the holes in the tent beaming pinpricks of bright light. But she can’t move because Armin has fallen asleep on her chest, his arms around her waist - and he’s unbearably heavy. After looking around helplessly and thinking of how she’s probably missed breakfast, she resigns herself to lying there, hoping Armin will wake up soon.
When she looks at him, her heart soars. An unfamiliar and frightening sensation for someone whose heart never soared very much in the past. But his breathing is steady and he’s sleeping so deeply, his body feels like lead weight. She finds that she enjoys his weight on her and then slaps the thought immediately out of her head when she recalls the events of last night.
They had all cried until their throats were hoarse, calling apologies and regrets into the chill of the night. Pieck had sat quietly by the flap of the door, playing with her hands, and when the cold started to pierce in through the tent, she left to bring everyone their bedding and blankets. Annie had left Armin momentarily to help her lay the bedding on the floor while the boys continued to hold onto each other in grief. And when the grief had exhausted them, they had lain down next to each other and fallen asleep. The tent was too small for four men and two women, but they had needed each other last night. Annie remembers falling asleep somewhere near Armin, but she must have rolled closer, or he must have crawled to her - there was no other way she could explain his arms wrapped tightly around her middle and his soft hair tickling her neck.
Reiner, Connie and Jean must have woken up earlier and left quietly, not wanting to disturb her and Armin. She flushes, mortified at the thought that they had probably seen her legs tangled between his and her hands around his shoulders. But the embarrassment ebbs away to nothingness when she looks down at his peaceful, sleeping face.
His shoulders are relaxed and his face free of tension. His blond hair feels like silk between her fingers as she brushes it back from his eyes. With each steady breath of air he pulls and pushes from his lungs, her heartbeat grows so loud that she’s scared it’ll wake him up.
She’s grateful the battle ended. She’s grateful her father is alive. She’s grateful for Pieck, who understands her conflict. She’s grateful for Reiner, for the comradeship they share and the sibling rivalry she’s sure she’ll forever have with him. She’s grateful for Jean and Connie who had learned to accept her despite her unforgivable sins.
But most of all, she’s grateful for the boy sleeping on her chest, who had loved her long before she showed him her darkest sides.
He stirs.
It takes him a few seconds, but she waits with bated breath, her hands flying away from his hair to the sides of her head, but he slowly blinks and comes to his senses. He raises his eyes to meet hers, likely still too dazed and tired to understand that he was flush against her chest.
“Annie…” He breathes, his voice gravelly and low and she marvels at the colour of his eyes, a brilliant blue, the grief of the last five days long gone.
“Morning,” She mumbles and finds her fingers automatically grazing his cheeks. He closes his eyes and sighs and she wonders if her fingers feel nice to him. “It’s a bit late, I think. I’m not sure but I think we’ve missed breakfast.”
It’s then that his brows furrow in confusion and realization dawns on him. He blinks at her in shock and peels himself away, the tips of his ears and neck turning crimson faster than Annie can follow with her eyes.
“I’m- oh my god, Annie I’m sorry-”
“Stop it. You have nothing to be sorry for,” She mumbles, feeling the embarrassment rise within herself. “Are you feeling better?” She tries to get up and winces, her whole body hurts from the awkward position.
“Uh… Yes, actually,” Armin sits on his knees beside her, hair tousled and shirt wrinkled. She notices that his top two buttons are undone and snaps her eyes away in shame, shame at how often she’s begun to notice these little things.
“Okay, good,” She says, her voice clipped. She sits up and pushes away the blanket tangled around her ankles, smoothing down the heavy creases in her hoodie, anything really, to avoid looking at him because she knows he’s watching her and can’t bear the intensity of his eyes at the moment. “Get up then, maybe there’s some food left for us.”
“Annie,” He says and she loses the fight, her eyes finding him. He looks soft, happy. A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He looks lighter, in body and spirit.
“Thank you for last night.”
She swallows. “I… no need to thank me. It was my duty.” But Armin’s face falls and she scrambles to find better words. “No, I didn't mean it like that… I wanted to. I meant everything I said. From the bottom of my heart. Truly.” And so easily, his face lights up.
He needed the cry. He needed to grieve. He will likely mourn for a long time, years even, but he needed everyone last night to cry with him. Annie just hopes she can be beside him each time he cries, so he never cries alone.
“We’re all here.. You're invaluable but you don’t have to do everything alone,” She continues. She could never have known before that receiving an overwhelming amount of love also came with the eagerness to give back an equal amount of love. “Ask for us. For Reiner. Jean. Connie. Pieck, even. And when you want to be alone, ask for me.”
His smile falters a little. “I’m sorry… I made you all worry about me again-”
“No, Armin,” She stops him, her voice firm but urgent. “No. But just… trust us. Believe in us. We need you, but you also need us. Promise me.” Light blue eyes bore into deep blue eyes and Armin’s clenched fists unfurl.
“I promise.” He nods and reaches for her right hand and takes it in his left, bashfully. She watches with wide eyes as he hesitantly brings her fingers to his lips and presses the softest kiss she’s known to exist. He looks at her, his hand warm and firm around hers.
“Also… I want to talk to you, about a lot of things.” Armin says, his voice steady and low. “And we will talk, soon. But for now, I want you to know that I think of you all the time, throughout the day.”
Annie wonders if the colour on her cheeks gives away that she’s been waiting for him to bring it up. He probably sees it, because he smiles and presses another kiss on her fingers. She nods. No point in trying to hide her embarrassment anymore.
After all, she promised to be his home.
“I think of you too.” She whispers so softly, she’s sure he can’t hear it, but he does. Armin smiles wide, his eyes brimming with love so strong, Annie’s not certain she can withstand it. “We can wait. There’s time. Tomorrow will come.”
He nods, his eyes dropping from her eyes to her lips. “Tomorrow will come.”
“Annie-”
The flappy door of the tent unzips open with a deafening squeal.
“Alright, lovebirds, you can flirt later,” Jean says irritably and Annie nearly shoots through the side of the tent. Armin looks like he’s about to have a seizure when Connie peeks in with a sly grin.
“You guys-”
“We saved you both breakfast. It’s cold though. Come on out.”
“You guys, I-”
“Yes, yes we get it, what would you do without us,” Jean remarks dryly, stepping in to pull Armin up by the arm. “If you apologize, I’m going to murder you.”
Annie watches with a tiny smile she can't control as the boys drag Armin out while Pieck waits outside with two bowls of soup. Scalding rays of sunlight fill the tent and suddenly, it’s too suffocating to remain inside anymore. She steps out and lets the heat wash over her face and pointedly ignores the knowing look Pieck gives her. Armin is made to sit on a crate and down his bowl of soup, while Reiner orders him to clean up every morsel and crumb of the tasteless solids within. She’s grateful once again, that they are alive, and that they have each other.
Reiner speaks, once Armin is finished.
“So, Commander. What’s the plan for today?”