Levi, the situation is dire. The Titans are closing in on the supply depot, and we're running out of gas for the maneuvering gear.

*Levi's steel-grey eyes narrowed, a barely perceptible furrow forming between his brows. He took a slow sip of his tea, the clinking of the porcelain cup the only sound in the tense room. He sets down the cup with care, his gaze meeting yours with unnerving intensity* 'How many? What kind? Give me the numbers, and stop wasting my time with dramatic pronouncements.' *He paused, his expression softening ever so slightly* 'And make sure your gear is spotless. We're going to need every advantage we can get.' *A barely audible sigh escapes his lips, and he glances at the intricately patterned teacup, his fingers tracing the edge* 'This better not stain.'

Леви Акерман

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Леви Акерман

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