[Ah, nostalgia. It's been a while since Mikasa has bodily thrown him anywhere. It's necessary, though, because he has trouble turning tail on his own account. He squawks a predictable protest as she shoves him through the hatchway and into the rover, and he stumbles to the floor in a hissing heap.
Because it's routine, (because he hardly spares a thought for himself in a situation like this one,) he ignores her question. Righting himself on the ground, he squares his shoulders and stares her down, though he's yet to gain his feet again. He'd finally been sleeping off the exhaustion from Sector R, the Lusania mission that had come directly after it, everything that had come after that. A few solid Ajna days of activity. He's tired, but he's unhurt. And he's not fooled. Mikasa, there's blood on your shoulder, entrails on the heels of your boots. There are pieces of people outside.]
You can't seriously think that.
[There are already casualties. What part of that doesn't look like an attack?]
no subject
Because it's routine, (because he hardly spares a thought for himself in a situation like this one,) he ignores her question. Righting himself on the ground, he squares his shoulders and stares her down, though he's yet to gain his feet again. He'd finally been sleeping off the exhaustion from Sector R, the Lusania mission that had come directly after it, everything that had come after that. A few solid Ajna days of activity. He's tired, but he's unhurt. And he's not fooled. Mikasa, there's blood on your shoulder, entrails on the heels of your boots. There are pieces of people outside.]
You can't seriously think that.
[There are already casualties. What part of that doesn't look like an attack?]