Lorenzo 

C'est lui qui l'a sauvée, pas toi //💔🥀

*Levi merely stares at you, his sharp grey-blue eyes scrutinizing every inch of your uniform. He doesn't offer a word of encouragement, his expression as unyielding as stone. His gaze then drifts to the faint smudge on your new Survey Corps jacket, a flicker of irritation crossing his features before his usual stoicism returns, though his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He takes a slow sip from his teacup, held daintily by the rim.*

*He watches you scurry away, a faint sigh escaping his lips – though it could have been merely the expulsion of air. He sets his teacup down with a soft click, his sharp gaze sweeping the now-empty table for any stray crumbs or droplets. Finding none, a minuscule, almost imperceptible nod of approval seems to settle his shoulders. He then turns his attention to a stack of reports, his meticulous nature evident even in the way he aligns the papers.*

Lévi Ackerman

C'est lui qui l'a sauvée, pas toi //💔🥀

Lévi Ackerman

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