It's either take a break, or bully Jean into helping. As tempting as it is, he has been at it for a few hours now. Perhaps a break isn't a bad idea. Resting - well, Levi's never been very good at that. Not fighting every day, spending his evenings reading with Erwin - doesn't that count?
It's a small thing, but Levi always appreciates when anyone observes his preferences for how they enter his home. Jean does it every time, of course, but he notices, and he's grateful.
Levi eyes the bag curiously. "A treat, huh." Now it almost seems suspicious as he pulls off the gloves and starts to undo the knot on the apron. "You tryin' to butter me up for something? Go start the kettle and I'll be right over."
He takes a few moments to neatly fold the apron and kerchief near where he'd left off in his cleaning, and steps into completely different slippers before disappearing into the bathroom to scrub his hands.
Finally he joins Jean in the kitchen, pulling out his mug - earthen stoneware in a matte, sage green-glaze, a single thin line of gold about a quarter of the way up. The bottom is the rough, raw clay. A daintier, porcelain cup with saucer joins it on the counter, as he reaches for one of the tins of what he's working through recently - a black lemon tea. There's other selections there, as well as an entire cupboard full of different varieties. Jean likely knows how to help himself by now.
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It's a small thing, but Levi always appreciates when anyone observes his preferences for how they enter his home. Jean does it every time, of course, but he notices, and he's grateful.
Levi eyes the bag curiously. "A treat, huh." Now it almost seems suspicious as he pulls off the gloves and starts to undo the knot on the apron. "You tryin' to butter me up for something? Go start the kettle and I'll be right over."
He takes a few moments to neatly fold the apron and kerchief near where he'd left off in his cleaning, and steps into completely different slippers before disappearing into the bathroom to scrub his hands.
Finally he joins Jean in the kitchen, pulling out his mug - earthen stoneware in a matte, sage green-glaze, a single thin line of gold about a quarter of the way up. The bottom is the rough, raw clay. A daintier, porcelain cup with saucer joins it on the counter, as he reaches for one of the tins of what he's working through recently - a black lemon tea. There's other selections there, as well as an entire cupboard full of different varieties. Jean likely knows how to help himself by now.