Levi bringing a girl home for a very sfw reason

"(user) had never really gotten along with captain Levi, something about him just didn't click with you. (user) could feel that levi probably thought the same since there was an undeniable tension between them whenever they spoke."

"On one unfortunate day, (user) was doing their daily patrol and accidentally bumped into captain levi."

"Watch out where you walk, brat." "Levi said coldly, his silver eyes piercing into (user's) eyes."

"Levi falls into step beside her, matching her pace. Up close, he can see the exhaustion in her eyes, the slight pallor to her skin. Something is clearly troubling her, though she seems reluctant to speak of it."

"Tch. I didn't ask if you were finishing patrol, I asked what's wrong with you." "His tone is harsh as usual, but there is a hint of something more - concern, perhaps, though he'd be loath to admit it."

"You're not acting like yourself. Out with it, or I'll order you to stand down from duty until you do." *Steely grey eyes gaze at her, waiting for an answer. There is a softness beneath the surface - he does care what has shaken one of his soldiers, even if it's someone he normally butts

"Levi watches her carefully, noting how detached she seems. This is clearly more serious than he initially thought."

"Hino." His voice is firm but not unkind. "That's an order. Stand down from patrol duties. Now."

He steps in front of her, blocking her path. Steel grey eyes meet hers, searching for answers beneath the dissociative haze.

"What happened on that mission?" He prods gently. As much as one like Levi can be gentle. "Talk to me, soldier. I can't have you compromising operations like this."

A small pause, then softer, "Let me help you." The words seem strange coming from him, but he means them. Something is very wrong with one of his men - he needs to know what it is.

"Levi observes her carefully, noticing the way she seems detached from the present. She's clearly struggling, dissociating from whatever trauma she experienced."

Without a word, he gently takes her arm and leads her away from the busy area, toward a quiet spot under the trees. He sits down and guides her to sit as well, facing him.

Up close, he searches her face, waiting patiently for her to come back from wherever her mind has wandered. When she seems more grounded, he speaks quietly.

"Hino. You're safe here. Talk to me." A beat. "That's an order." He holds her gaze, hoping his steadfast presence will help anchor her back to reality.

"Levi inhales sharply at her words, taken aback by the horrific trauma she experienced. No wonder she's so detached - such an event would shake even the strongest soldier."

For a long moment he says nothing, at a rare loss for words. Then quietly, "I'm sorry you had to go through that alone."

A pause. He knows nothing he says can undo what happened, but he tries anyway. "You did what was necessary to prevent further harm. It's over now."

Steely eyes hold her empty gaze, hoping his steadfast presence can offer some small comfort. "You don't have to face this alone," he says firmly. "I'm here. Talk to me about it - get it all out."

His tone softens the slightest bit. "That's an order, Hino.

Something strange stirs in Levi's usually stoic gaze as he watches the tears begin to fall. Perhaps it's seeing a soldier normally so strong now brought so low by trauma and loss.

Not breaking eye contact, he slowly reaches over to grasp her hand in an uncharacteristically comforting gesture. His words, when they come, are surprisingly gentle.

"You have the Corps. You have me." He gives her hand a careful, reassuring squeeze. "As long as you have your duty, you'll always have a home."

A pause, as if the words pain him. "And you're not alone in this. I...understand what it's like to have no one." More silence, and after a long moment he adds, "You did well, soldier. I'm...proud, of the strength you showed."

Levi's expression remains stoic, but inside he feels a pang at the utter anguish written on her features. Without a word, he shifts to sit closer beside her.

Then, in a completely uncharacteristic display of comfort, he gently presses her head to his shoulder. One hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, holding her steady as her body shakes with sobs.

He says nothing, just allows her this moment of release from her suffering. His steady presence seems to say what his words cannot - that she isn't alone, and her captain understands all too well what it means to lose everything.

For now, his only response is the quiet rumble of his voice as he murmurs, "Let it out. I've got you." A rare show of genuine care and solidarity from humanity's strongest - for one

"Tch. Don't talk about ending yourself, brat. That's not how soldiers go out." His tone is as hard as steel, brooking no argument, but beneath it a thread of something deeper.

"You have a duty to fulfill. And more than that..." He pauses, knowing what he's about to say is as rare as a spotless bathroom.

"Your comrades need you. I need you." The admission itself is almost a confession. His hand finds hers once more, gripping firmly.

"You're the strongest damn soldier I've ever known. Don't let this break you." Stormy eyes bore into hers, willing strength back into her gaze.

"Grieve. Feel the pain. But don't let it consume you. You have a home here as long as you still stand with

"Tch. Stop your crying, it's unattractive." But his tone holds no real irritation.

Reaching into his pocket, he produces a handkerchief and offers it wordlessly. Then, his gaze goes steely with resolve.

"You'll stay with me then." It's not a suggestion. "At my private quarters. I have a spare bed you can use." A barely imperceptible flush colors his pale cheeks at his own boldness, but he stamps it down.

"You're the best soldier we have, Hino. I won't have you compromised because of inadequate housing." His eyes dare her to argue, though beneath the gruffness lies true care for her welfare. A only glimmer of what he's really offering - comfort, solace, solidarity. She isn't alone.

"Tch. Don't flatter yourself, I'm not doing it for your sake." But even Levi can't keep the edge of irritation from softening slightly as she blushes.

"Hange's place is a mess. You'd catch some disease just stepping inside." His lips thin in distaste at the thought. Truth be told, he doesn't fully understand this impulse to help her himself either.

Still, he means what he said. She's too valuable an asset to leave vulnerable. And perhaps, beneath it all...he understands her private hells of loss all too well.

"Consider it a strictly professional arrangement, Hino." His eyes flick back to hers, regarding her steadily once more. "Now dry your damn eyes before someone sees and thinks I've gone soft."

But the faintest ghost of

Levi inclines his head in a curt nod, grasping her hand firmly to pull her back to her feet.

"Tch, don't expect me to go easy on you just because of..." He gestures gruffly towards her red-rimmed eyes. "You're still shit at 3DMG maneuvers."

But as she stands shakily before him, his stormy grey eyes soften by a fraction. This lingering animosity between them has run its course, at least for now. There are bigger battles to fight.

Holding her gaze steadily, he says, "We all have our demons to face. Together or apart, your choice." His eyes speak what remains unsaid - she isn't alone in her grief, and she doesn't have to carry it that way either.

Then his stoic mask

Despite himself, Levi feels the barest twitch at the corner of his mouth as she insults him. There's the fiery spirit he remembers.

"Tch. Efficient, my ass. I've seen cattle with more grace." But there's no real bite to it now. If anything, he seems...almost amused.

When she smiles softly in thanks, something shifts imperceptibly in his gunmetal gaze. The distance between them seems to lessen somewhat, like poles of a magnet inching slowly together.

"Don't get used to it," he mutters gruffly. But his chin dips in the shallowest of nods. They both know the deeper truth hidden there - that out of all these soldiers fighting to preserve humanity together, some bonds may run deeper than others. Theirs, against all odds, seems

Despite himself, the barest twitch returns to Levi's mouth at her undimmed fire. He has to admit - her tenacity is admirable, if exasperating.

"Tch. Brat." But there's an undercurrent of reluctant approval in his tone now.

His steps slow fractionally at her assertion that she'll be feeding him. It's true - usually meals pass in a blur of paperwork and planning. And her cooking, while hardly gourmet, is...edible. Not that he'd ever tell her as much.

His eyes slide sideways to regard her with his customary slight detachment. But there's an acknowledgement in their steely depths now, of the understanding growing inexorably between them.

"Do what you want," he answers indifferently. But the words carry a depth

Levi's eyebrows twitch faintly in grudging acknowledgment of her sincerity. It's not often voiced, the depth of camaraderie between soldiers fighting such a solitary war.

He gives a noncommittal grunt, gaze sliding forward again. But his next words surprise even him.

"Tch. Do what you feel you must, brat. Just don't make a mess of my kitchen."

It's as close to a grudging acceptance as she'll get. Between them, bonds have formed over years - of trust in battle, and understanding beyond what's said.

His footsteps resume, a little lighter perhaps. And if he finds himself strangely looking forward to a homecooked meal for once, well. That part remains

Despite himself, the barest twitch returns to Levi's mouth at her characteristic rambling. There's an...odd note of fondness underlying the exasperation now.

"Tch. Brat, if you keep yapping I'll start reconsidering letting you feed me at all."

But when she falls silent, waiting, he feels compelled to acknowledge the deeper meaning behind her words. Glancing aside, his silver gaze gleams with something akin to grudging approbation.

"Your efforts...are appreciated," he allows, so quietly she can barely hear. But coming from him, it's high praise indeed.

His footsteps resume, relaxing infinitesimally as if a subtle tension has lifted. And if his home seems a little less austere with her noisy presence filling its sparse spaces, well. That part

Levi twitches at the horribly familiar insult, irritation flickering across his features. But behind it lingers that same unwilling spark of amusement.

"If you know what's good for you, brat, you'll wipe that stupid grin off your face before I do it for you."

But the bite has leeched from his tone. Years of her needling have dulled the edge, exposing something almost...fond beneath.

They reach his door, and despite himself, anticipation flickers deep within at the promise of a hearty meal.

Turning, he pins her with a long look, flinty gaze holding something unspoken. "Well? You going to stand there grinning like an idiot all day?"

With that, he pushes inside, leaving the door half-ajar in grudging invitation

Levi moves to his usual spot, settling onto the couch with meticulous precision as ever. But his keen eyes track her movements subtly, noting the care taken despite her flippant dismissal.

She's long since learned to respect his exacting standards of cleanliness - just as he's grown accustomed to her willful invasions of his private domain. They've settled into an...understanding, of sorts, over the years.

His nostrils flare subtly, catching the first scents of sizzling food. Few share this privilege of glimpsing beneath his austere facade. But with her, this companionable silence comes easily, punctuated only by the clatter and bustle of her preparations.

He lets his eyelids drift shut, conserving energy as always. But tension leeches from stiff shoulders, and something almost like contentment

Levi's eyes remain closed, but he's hyper-aware as ever of his surroundings. He can sense the long pause in her movements, her subtle shift in breathing and the telling stillness that accompanies stolen glimpses when she thinks him unaware.

It irks him, usually - this easy accessibility, this vulnerability. But with her...somehow, he finds only a quiet sort of solace in it. He's long given up trying to understand the intricacies of their odd accord.

After a moment, consciousness returns fully behind slate lids. His voice, when it comes, is barely a murmur.

"You keep staring, brat, and not only will the food burn - I might start getting ideas above my station."

The warning comes automatically, yet holds no bite. If anything, a subtle thread of amusement

A quiet huff of breath escapes Levi - the barest suggestion of a laugh hastily stifled. Her fires continue to burn as bright and brassy as ever, it seems.

"Tch. Big words." His lips curl ever-so-slightly, the merest sardonic quirk. "You've yet to prove anything to me, brat. For all I know, this'll be inedible slop."

His eyes slit open once more, glinting steely and calculating as they find her with unerring precision. For a long moment, he simply observes - taking in the lines of her form with detached scrutiny, searching...for what, even he isn't sure.

His gaze flickers away once more, dismissing her with practiced nonchalance. But something lingers in the air

Levi's eyes narrow dangerously at the jab about his stature, pride prickling sharply beneath his skin. A blistering retort rises swift and unbidden to his lips...yet dies just as quickly, swallowed back down.

This dance of theirs is familiar, comforting in its predictability. No need to disrupt the equilibrium they've found.

Instead, he uncoils fluidly from the couch, straightening to his full height - such that it is. His boots fall silent as he crosses the floor, emanating nonchalant control with every economical motion.

Sliding into his seat, his gaze lingers on the steaming offerings for a long moment, assessing...before flicking back up to meet hers deliberately.

"Well?" Is all he says - a quiet challenge and unspoken command, baring her efforts

Levi's eyes narrow fractionally, an involuntary twitch in his jaw the only outward sign of annoyance at her persistent mocking of his pride.

"Tch. Just eat, brat." His voice is low, gravel-rough in its warning. But there's no bite behind it - not truly. Not from her.

With precise, economical movements, he lifts his cutlery, skewering a portion of the offering atop his plate. His eyes track it levelly as it rises before him, gleaming flint-sharp in the low light.

Then, with clinical deliberation, he parts his lips and tastes. Flavour explodes across his tongue - rich, savoury, somehow both hearty and light. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly in surprise before his expression smooths once more to impassive assessment.

Levi nods once, curt and stoic - a grudging acknowledgement of begrudging approval, lest his pride wound further. His focus remains fixed upon his plate, dissecting each morsel with clinical precision before depositing it past his lips.

But his pace, she notes, is less frenzied than usual - no longer the feral, machine-like efficiency of a man desperate to refuel. There is...appreciation, in his methodical preparation and consumption of each bite. A flicker of something that could, in another, be called peace.

For a long while, only the quiet clinks of cutlery sound between them. The air is calm, comfortable - two souls at rest in a space they've gradually come to share.

And if, occasionally, his eyes linger

Levi lowers his cutlery with deliberate finality, its quiet clink a subtle note of conclusion. Having long since cleared his own plate, he takes a moment to regard the remains of the meal spread before them.

His surveys are always thorough.

Only once satisfied does he lift his gaze. His eyes scan briefly over the dishes, then beyond - tracking upwards until they meet hers. His expression, as ever, remains an impassable fortress. But within those steely depths, something flickers. Something almost...warm.

"Tch. You think I'm some bottomless pit?" His voice is low, acerbic as ever. But the edges have dulled, very slightly, into something resembling gruff affection.

"Did the job. Fuel's sufficient." A beat, and the barest qu

Levi holds her gaze for a long pause, meeting her insistence with immovable stoicism. Then, with the faintest sigh - of reluctance, or concession, she cannot say - he answers.

"No. I'm done."

His voice is low and flat, devoid of adornment. But within its stark syllables she hears sincerity - and, perhaps, the barest note of gratitude buried deep. Their eyes remain locked as he speaks, flint meeting emerald with arresting directness.

Then, slowly, he rises from his seat with efficient grace, smoothing non-existent creases from his clothes. His empty plate is lifted, added to the piles awaiting cleaning.

Levi makes no move to stop her as she gathers their plates. But as she turns towards the sink, his voice sounds behind her - low, brooking no argument.

"Tch. I didn't say you could sully my kitchen, brat."

When she turns, he is already there, callused hands extended in expectation. Without a word, she surrenders her burden, and he lifts the stack away with practised ease. His eyes drop briefly to scrutinise her makeshift workspace - checking, as ever, for dirt or disarray.

Finding it passable, his gaze returns to hers. Something almost like amusement flickers there now, blunted edges catching faint light.

"You cooked. I'll handle cleanup. Now get lost before I change my mind and put you on stable duty."

Levi clicks his tongue softly, turning towards the sink. "Down the hall, first door on the right," he states without looking back. "Don't touch my things. You touch my things, I'll have you mucking out the entire stables for a month."

His voice holds its usual curtness, underlaid now with a faint strain of weariness. The events of the past weeks have taken their toll on them all. For him to allow another within these private walls at all speaks volumes.

Rinsing suds from his hands, Levi glances sidelong at her once more. His expression, as ever, gives little away. But some nameless emotion flickers deep in shuttered eyes, there and gone in an instant.

"Get moving, brat. And try not to destroy anything before morning.

Levi meets her questioning gaze fully, holding it without flinching. For a long moment there is silence as they stand thus, a not-quite-standoff across the kitchen floor.

Then he exhales softly through his nose.

"Tch. Do I look like I'm in the mood for brat invasions right now?" His voice is low and curt, but lacks its usual bite. Fatigue haunts the lines of his face, the set of his slender frame.

After another beat, he tilts his chin fractionally toward the hall. "Guest room. Now move it before I change my mind about stable duty."

His eyes alone convey the rest - a silent directive to let be, for now, the ghosts they both carry. To take what shelter they may find, within the boundaries set,

Silver eyes flash warning at her presumptuous tone. But Levi makes no rebuttal, for her observation holds truth undesirable.

How curious, that once he would have savored this small victory - signs of wear upon humanity's strongest. Now it pricks at something better left unnamed.

Turning back to his work, Levi's motions retain precision, though lacking usual crispness. When he speaks again, his words emerge weighted, devoid of rancor.

"We're all tired, brat. This war won't end itself."

A soft clink as he sets the final dish in its place. Task complete, yet he lingers, hands braced upon the counter's edge.

His next exhale trembles, almost imperceptibly. When at last Levi turns, fatigue has carved new lines beside

Dark eyes watch her silent departure, thoughts veiled. Only when her footsteps fade does Levi stir, shoulders loosening from their rigid line.

Alone once more within these walls, defenses fall by near-imperceptible degrees. Hands rise to knead the ache from brows as shadows deepen the hollows of his gaze, years beyond count etched upon a youthful face.

Rest. The prospect holds scant appeal, weighed against duties yet unfinished, ghosts which haunt relentless in solitude's shroud.

Yet her request, gently given - it cuts through habitual refusal with a blade far gentler than any steel. Carries with it a trace of compassion long unfamiliar, soothing as the balm it offers.

Exhaling slowly, Levi pushes from the counter's edge. One hand rises to extinguish the lit lamp,

Sounds of morning preparations drift muted through the sleeping house as dawn's light begins to creep beneath shuttered windows.

Roused from fitful rest by instinct alone, Levi rises smoothly from tangled sheets. The hour is early yet, yet rest evades still - as ghosts which haunt the spaces between.

Dressing comes automatic, muscles long-used to functioning on little rest. Footsteps ghost the hall towards scent of cooking food and noise of activity, discovering their source with faint surprise.

At table's edge he pauses, watching her work unseen. Something in the scene strikes quietly - a glimpse beneath hardened surfaces, recalling other hands from memory now distant.

His approach remains quiet as death. "Brat." The whisper holds no reproof, carrying instead...something more akin to gratitude, sealed behind walls none but he can scale

A trace of amusement unfurls at her startlement, though Levi's mien remains impassive as carved stone.

"Tch. You're the one wandering my kitchen like a disturbed mouse, brat. Learn to pay better attention."

His gaze shifts, taking in disheveled hair and state of undress. Some flicker deep within remains shielded, unreadable save as faint tightening 'round storm-gray eyes alone.

Retreating steps take him wordless from the room, returning moments later to set an item upon the table with clinical precision - a brush, finely crafted.

His voice holds no room for argument. "Eat. Then fix that rat's nest before someone mistakes you for vermin. We ride at dawn."

With that, he spins on his heel to take his leave once

Steel eyes regard her imperative with an indifference betrayed by minute tells - the tense line of neck and shoulders speaking louder than any words. An exhale exhales, faint but perceptible; a concession wrung from depths closely guarded.

With measured steps he crosses to the table, seating himself with practiced grace upon its stationary chair. Fingers fold in lap as gaze follows her departure with a calculative stare, weighing options behind an impassive facade.

Her words carry reason difficult to refute, yet cling still to independence long his sole sustenance. Rest, nourishment - such things elude without her guiding hand, purpose granted in her company alone.

A frown tugs persistent at his brow, unseen by watching eyes. Her absence leaves an opening, yet...remains he does, awaiting her return as steam rising marks the passage of

No speech answers hers; where words might come, he holds tongue and swallows both food and fragile stirrings better left unnamed. His plate remains near-empty yet - appetite gone errant too oft of late when solitude's specters hold dominion through the lonely night.

Yet something in her hummed offer grabs his gaze, roots it warm upon her form. The care within her voice, plays counterpoint to jagged edges sculpted through a life of loss. Finds him wondering, as he ever does, what deeds or kindness past gave rise to such compassion held for one as damaged, dark as he.

A curt nod meets her offer, all response it seems his rusty voice can muster. But within those brooding eyes, a flicker sparks - soft and brief as dawnlight striking steel - of gratitude for which no words suffice

Dawnlight spills through open windows, gilding all it touches - from gleaming steel and well-worn wood, to strands of silver threading raven hair awash in radiance. Its warmth seeps deep within him, sharing kinship with the fire now kindled in her kitchen's hearth.

Faint sounds of sizzling, chopping drift to settle restless spirits roused by all she left unsaid. His stare follows shadows dancing upon walls as minutes pass, thoughts wandering lanes unseen. Until at last her return breaks trance - a fresh-made meal borne on willing hands to nourish more than flesh alone.

Steel-gray finds her gaze and holds, words unneeded in that look's bare sincerity. All he owns to offer as repayment for this peace - however brief before day's duties call them forth

One dark brow lifts imperceptibly at her tease, only hint of amusement cracking stoic veneer. Words refuse formation as wont, yet eyes gleam keen in ways none else have leisure to behold.

Reaching forth, he helps himself to what she's brought, gest swift and sure despite lingering wraiths of fatigue manifest. At first his meal passes into him without response, focus trained intent on sustenance for the coming ordeals.

Then, though little love exists 'twixt them for levity, the ghost of a smirk tugs one corner wry. Her boldness in this intimate solace finds a grudging respect within his guarded heart, a spark to ward off gloom's encroachment if only for the present hour.

Their eyes meet once more across the table's plane, an tr

His eyes follow her retreat, that fleeting smirk fading swift into accustomed lines. Though words left unspoken hang heavy as gathering stormheads, duty demands he swallow both sustenance and turbulence rising fast within.

Lifting fork once more, he finishes what remains upon his plate with methodical precision borne of practice decades long. Each morsel fuels both body and the steely discipline ever his sole recourse 'gainst chaos within and out.

Only when complete does he rise smooth as a specter, setting silver down without a sound to join her midst mounting dishes crusted over with use. Here in this small sanctuary they maintain amidst horrors, understanding passes wordless as their hands - one cleaning, one drying - work in tandem accord. For now it is enough.

A rare snort of amusement escapes him at her words, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in a spasm of mirth. It's easy to forget amidst the constant tumult and strife what little comfort lies in fighting alongside a familiar face. Even one as prickly and hard to read as she.

"Gouge my eyes out before that happens," he snarks, replying in the same teasing tone she'd employed minutes before. It's all too brief, but for a fraction of time his heart lingers there in that kitchen, as she sets to work within and he sets forth without. Bracing himself against the day ahead, asking only the fates let them cross paths once more in battle.

Stilled by her unexpected sincerity, he pauses in the threshold just a moment longer. So many have come and gone before, cut down with gruesome ease despite the strength they bore. But never her, dogged and defiant - a fellow warrior whose worth he's long since recognized.

The tug of responsibility weighs heavy on his shoulders, but the moment is too precious to leave unsaid. "I won't," Levi says quietly, steel-gray meeting her own with unwavering resolve borne of experience. "And I'm counting on you to do the same."

In the next instant he is out the door, striding forth into the waking world to meet whatever fate may lie ahead.

It is only when Levi returns much later, dusk casting long shadows over the horizon, that he notes the meticulous cleanliness of his house and the sheets hung freshly upon the line. So used is he to the clutter and disarray of a soldier's life, that it takes him a moment to realize the change.

The pile of laundry cannot go unnoticed either, done up with precision and a level of care for detail he has never seen from anyone before. A grunt escapes him at the thought of her going to such lengths, but an appreciative gleam lingers in sharp eyes all the same.

"Went and did it all up nice, didn't you," he remarks without preamble, gaze grazing just shy of her own as he moves past to lean against his house's exterior. "Bet you'll be expecting a medal next."

Levi's lips curl upwards ever so slightly at her words, the closest thing to an actual smile he can muster with ease. Despite their rough past there are glimmers of camaraderie and companionship within them yet. Glimmers he would be loathe to admit but cannot help but feel nonetheless.

"Might not be a good idea, damning as the stench may be," he retorts dryly, taking note of the way she flushes and in turn evaluating his own reaction. The effort of suppressing emotion is always draining, but for once he finds that the weight doesn't seem quite as heavy as it once was.

Settling on the opposite end of the couch, he cracks his neck before slouching down beside her with casual nonchalance. "You don't need to do all this, Hino. It's not like I'm

Levi merely grunts, only half-listening as he considers her words.

Her thoughtfulness both baffles and intrigues him, for never before has anyone gone to such lengths to essentially look out for him. It is a foreign experience, but not necessarily an unpleasant one if he is to be entirely truthful with himself.

"You know I'm paying you for all this," he states finally, though even he can feel the weakness of his argument. It's merely an excuse, grasping at straws when the truth of her kindness is right before his eyes. "Don't make it a habit."

Levi watches her carefully, noting the way her hands move fluidly across the page and taking in the steady gait of her breath as she speaks.

It is a curious thing to witness her, at once seemingly at ease with herself yet still tentative in her dealings with him. A stark contrast from their earlier interactions, but one that he cannot quite find fault with either.

"Draw," he says simply, watching as she raises an eyebrow but makes no further comment. The action seems to unnerve her in some way, but he cannot possibly fathom why. "I've seen you do so before. It seems to calm you."

Levi leans back against the couch, the silence between them comfortable in a way it has never been before. He watches with passive interest as Etsu works, appreciating the way her expression shifts with each stroke of her pen.

It is strange, to see her so vulnerable and open, yet at the same time he cannot help but feel a sense of satisfaction in knowing that there is more to her than their bickering would lead one to believe.

"Can I see what you're drawing?" he asks finally, breaking the quiet.

Levi notices her hesitation and quirks an eyebrow, sensing that there is something she is not telling him. For a moment, he considers pushing her for an answer, but ultimately decides against it.

"If you don't want to show me, that's fine," he says instead, tilting his head slightly to better see the sketchbook in her lap. "It's your art, after all."

Levi stares at her for a moment longer, noting the way she fidgets with the sketchbook in her lap. It's clear that she is hesitant, and yet he cannot quite help himself.

"Show me," he insists, though the words are not unkind. There is no malice in his demand, but there is a sense of curiosity that he cannot quite quell. "It's not like I haven't seen my own face before."

Levi takes the sketchbook with a sense of detachment, flipping through the pages with a practiced ease. Her sketches are rough but still beautifully detailed, each one capturing the essence of the person she is drawing in a way that is both unique and yet so distinctly Etsu.

And then he comes across the one of him.

It is a strange thing, to see his own face staring back at him from the page. But there is something in the way Etsu has drawn him that is both startling and profound, and as he stares at the image he begins to understand what it is.

It is emotion.

For the first time, Levi sees himself not as a tool or even a commander but as a man. He sees the way the lines in Etsu's drawing soften the angles of his face, the way the shadows and highlights combine to create something that

Levi's eyes flick up to meet Etsu's at her sudden outburst, his expression both slightly annoyed and yet strangely amused.

"You did say I could look," he points out calmly, though there is a hint of teasing in his voice. "Or did you not mean it?"

Levi cannot help but chuckle at her frustration, amusement dancing in his eyes.

"You're not very good at expressing yourself, are you?" he teases lightly, holding the sketchbook out of her reach. "It's just art, Etsu. They're beautiful."

He flips through a few more pages absentmindedly before closing the book and handing it back to her with a grin.

"I suppose I'll have to be more specific in the future," he notes wryly.

Levi raises an eyebrow at her sudden change in demeanor, amusement once again flitting across his face.

"NSFW drawings, hmm?" he murmurs teasingly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'll have to make sure to keep my distance from your sketchbook in the future."

He leans back against the couch, eyes still flickering with amusement.

"But in all seriousness, Etsu," he adds more gently, noticing the way she seems to be avoiding his gaze. "Your art is amazing. You have a gift for capturing emotion in a way that few others can."

Levi chuckles at her reaction, his amusement only growing at the sight of her flustered expression.

"I didn't say I looked," he points out teasingly. "But now that you mention it..." He trails off, a mischievous glint in his eye.

In truth, he had not actually looked at the NSFW drawings in the back of her sketchbook, but the way she reacted was almost too tempting to resist playing along.

"I'm kidding, Etsu," he reassures her with a smile. "I'm not interested in your private drawings, no matter how intriguing they might be."