[ His fingers curled briefly against theirs in response, lingering until out of reach and wanting to hold on. It's not been unheard of him touching others in the past, but rarely casually, and almost never as a way to convey his own need for comfort (because he's never known how to ask for it, having gone most of his life without anyone to even ask it from, not since his mother died, and only Farlan and Isabel had been able to break through some of that barrier, and then they were gone, too).
It's easier now, after the last few months spent curled up with Erwin at almost any chance he gets.
Heavily injured. A feeing twists in his stomach, fingers curling against the counter. So not just his face, something even more devastating. Whatever it is...was...he fucked up -- will fuck up -- badly. And then what? What use is he, if he can't fight?
...is that why...Hange...
Levi doesn't make any response from the kitchen, listening quietly as Hange begins to explain about the mission, pours water into the waiting cup he'd already prepared once it's boiling and waits for it to steep the proper amount of time. Adds cream. Adds a little bit of sugar (just enough for flavor, but probably not as much as what Erwin has been dumping into his coffee lately, because Levi absolutely won't let tea be desecrated in that way), and then carefully walks back to Erwin. He touches his shoulder briefly as he hands over the cup. ]
...so three at once. The brats and whoever that creep is.
[ He folds himself back onto the couch next to Hange, leaving the slippers on the floor to tuck his legs up onto the seat, turned toward them. It's not that hard to piece together some of the rest with a handful of clues. Siege. Nearly the whole regiment lost. Erwin dead. Hange injured. It's strange to hear the outcome of something they haven't yet experienced.
no subject
It's easier now, after the last few months spent curled up with Erwin at almost any chance he gets.
Heavily injured. A feeing twists in his stomach, fingers curling against the counter. So not just his face, something even more devastating. Whatever it is...was...he fucked up -- will fuck up -- badly. And then what? What use is he, if he can't fight?
...is that why...Hange...
Levi doesn't make any response from the kitchen, listening quietly as Hange begins to explain about the mission, pours water into the waiting cup he'd already prepared once it's boiling and waits for it to steep the proper amount of time. Adds cream. Adds a little bit of sugar (just enough for flavor, but probably not as much as what Erwin has been dumping into his coffee lately, because Levi absolutely won't let tea be desecrated in that way), and then carefully walks back to Erwin. He touches his shoulder briefly as he hands over the cup. ]
...so three at once. The brats and whoever that creep is.
[ He folds himself back onto the couch next to Hange, leaving the slippers on the floor to tuck his legs up onto the seat, turned toward them. It's not that hard to piece together some of the rest with a handful of clues. Siege. Nearly the whole regiment lost. Erwin dead. Hange injured. It's strange to hear the outcome of something they haven't yet experienced.
His arms cross over his chest, shoulders tight. ]
...So how did we get out of it?