[ It doesn't look like she's about to budge from where she's stationed at the door, almost daring Eren to try and face her. But she's not lying to make him feel better, and going outside right now would only rile him up. He'll have plenty of time to look at the pieces later on - who's going to be picking them up anyway? ]
Eren... [ She doesn't even look irritated, because she's not. Because sort of a little bit there are people in this camp that she'd miss if they died, and it's not like she'd had a chance to see who it had been that was raining from the sky. Maybe it was Ino. Kagari. Shiemi. People that she wouldn't stop for, but no doubt would mourn (quietly, internally, and alone) if they'd died.
Her gaze drops. ] It's not an attack, it's a message or a warning. We can't see what's in the sky, but it's not coming down to pick people off the ground.
[Unfortunately one severed arm looks much like another, especially in the dark. So there's little knowing who is out there, right now. And the not knowing is maddening in its own way. He's pulling his feet under him as she talks. Rolling up onto his heels, into a crouch, standing up to cross the distance and face her down. They're the same height, more or less, they always have been. It makes it easy to get in her face about it, toeing the line of her challenging blockade. He's already riled.
And he's not sure he's convinced they're not under attack. But he is convinced that she believes it. And Mikasa isn't stupid. (And she will tell him things he does not like, but she will not lie to him.) Even if it's a message—]
Are we just gonna let them do this?
[He doesn't know everyone in the CDC. He doesn't like all of them. It doesn't matter. They're comrades, right now. Even if they're dead already, even if it's a warning, are they planning on bowing to it? Letting the things that killed them just get away with it?]
Edited (I am the worst at dialogue) 2014-08-25 22:19 (UTC)
oh my gosh are you comparing mikasa to jean with that icon
[ He's ready to go. Mikasa's own expression is firmly grim, dismayed as she looks at him because, as per the usual, Eren can't sit by and let something happen. A stubborn willfulness that refuses to accept this, whatever it is. But there are realities that sometimes you can't do anything with. ]
What do you plan to do? [ Her eyes are narrowed, like his righteous anger doesn't impress her, and really, it doesn't. ] There's not enough light out to see, and they're flying far out of our reach.
[ She doesn't move. ]
Are you going to waste your bullets, Eren? Trying to shoot them. Or transform and try to reach them? [ And destroy the camp in the process. It sounds like she's taunting him but, maybe she's a little frustrated too. Maybe she's a little stricken by how little control they have here and this isn't the first time fellow recruits had been snatched from them. What if next time it's Eren? ]
Eren. [ Her gaze his heavy, focused on him. ] What are we going to do to make sure we stay together? [ She doesn't mean in this rover, or for one mission. She means on the same crew, the same planet. ]
[Of course they're staying together. He'd been prepared to leave Mikasa and Armin behind if it meant keeping them safe. It isn't the same, here, there is no relative safety of the walls, no enemy as straightforward as a firing squad. All he can do is try to keep them close and keep them safe, himself. With his own hands, if he has to. (But even that is at the whim of their captors, in the end.)
He takes her by the shoulder, as if to push her out of the way, but he never actually gets around to doing anything of the sort.]
I won't—
[Won't what? Hide in here while those things get away? Let anything (anyone) take her from him? Those are easy claims to make. The how is much harder, sheer force of will only gets him so far. He doesn't have a good answer to any of that.
He hasn't backed off. He doesn't advance, either. Stuck in a useless and frustrated place between cowed and combative. Stiff and straight-backed and breathing sharply, teeth and fists clenched, spare inches away from her. Head bowed, eyes falling from staring her down to searching the darkness outside, visible over the hollow of her shoulder. Those harpy things had killed Sasha because he couldn't stop them. The CDC had taken Isabel away and reassigned her somewhere else before they even knew she was gone. There are people out there who are dead and they won't even know who they are or what had killed them until it's clear and light enough to count the bodies. There is little that he hates (and fears) more than feeling (being) helpless.
His jaw claps shut as something thuds against the hull of the rover again, one last time. His fingers on her shoulder draw tight. But already the uproar outside is tipping from attack to aftermath. It only takes so long to send a message like this one. The occasional sick slap of gore on the snow has slowed, the sound of something swooping by overhead is fading. They're too late and too little, and he hates it.]
[ He's calming, and it's moments like these that she's so grateful to him. Because he has all the right in the world to get angry, to yell because there are people out there, slaughtered and mutilated. People out there, alive and unused to watching their comrades die, much less be violated in such a way. Eren has the right to be angry, because it might be someone that they know out there, and it might not. He has that right, but he still listens to her. Even among that anger, and she's seen it at its fullest, he's listening to her.
She doesn't want to see him defeated. (She doesn't want to see their fellow recruits murdered, either. To see the people of this camps, victims most of them, traumatized like this for no purpose. Their instructors aren't trustworthy, but she believes slightly in the innocence of the recruits. They're all trapped here, at the mercy of a power bigger than anything most of them could've previously imagined.)
Reaching up, she takes his hand on her shoulder into her own, squeezing it for a moment before a moment before returning it to his side.
The rover is still around them, the atmosphere thick and tight, like a throat clenched with feeling, unable to express or ignore. She can feel the tremors of something like regrets or desperation, and as much as she lectures for Eren to stop and think, her own thoughts yield nothing. She can't think of anything to do but obey and hope to survive. Obey and live of the offered strength of the CDC. And she doesn't know how long that will last. ]
Eren, it's not selfish you prioritize yourself sometimes. [ Finally, with some delay. She thinks, so don't go out there and pick fights. ] You know you can't keep fighting otherwise.
[ That's what he'd taught her. To fight. To live. Don't extinguish that flame by burning up all the oxygen too fast; pick your battles, save your energy. She can't afford to expend herself, to expose herself now when he might need her later. So pick your battles, a successful mission revolved around avoiding the most titans back home. ]
[Back home, after Trost, after being freed from the prison beneath the courthouse, he'd been kept under the close observation of humanity's strongest soldiers. As insurance, in case he turns on them, loses control. In case he needs to be put down. But the flip side of it was that it would keep him safe, protected, because he is too valuable an asset to lose. Things are different here, he is not as unique to the CDC as he is to humanity. He is not as important, and he is not—as much as he'd probably like to be—nearly as much of a threat. He has, ironically, enjoyed more personal freedom after his conscription into the CDC than he'd had since Trost. But that doesn't mean he can forget what's going on back home. Or his place in it.
Being a priority. It is selfish, to do whatever you want when there are bigger things at stake. When humanity is at stake. Sometimes you need to do things you don't want to do. And sometimes that means fighting when you want to hide...or hiding when you want to fight. While he understands the need for it, it doesn't sit easy on him. It probably never will. But it goes hand in hand with responsibility, and that is something that he tries very hard to measure up to. (Like the elite Garrison team and all the others (Marco) in Trost. They gave their lives so he could stop the city from falling. He needs to be worth all those lives, or all of it will be a waste.) His hand is tense under her fingers as she pulls it away, eases it down to his side. Just shy of trembling, as it balls itself back into a fist, blunt nails biting deep (but not deep enough) into his palms. Quieting, but far and away from calm, watching the black out the hatch of the rover in a desperate and determined way.]
I'll kill them.
[It's not what she wants to hear, but he does stay. They're already gone, he's already too late, they don't need to sit around and wait for this to happen again. He cannot help but think of Armin and the Captain out in the med tent. The others out who knows where. He does not cry, but there is a fierce upswell of frustration, a strangled and wordless thing caught in his throat, caged behind his teeth.]
They can't keep doing this.
[And it's clear where he's going with that, what he thinks the enemy is. Those harpy things, the ones from the lockdown. Appearing without warning, picking people up and tearing them limb from limb. It's happened before, the first fatalities they'd had on the whole mission. What else could it be?]
[ She accepts his convictions as he utters them, because she'd tried once to stop him after he'd determined something and it hadn't worked. He'd just pushed harder, swallowed his pride, and made it happen. And she admires that about him, because it's not something she has. She doesn't know what that kind of ambition feels like, puts all of her energy and passion into her dedication until its exhausted and she has nothing left for other pursuits.
Her hand finds his shoulder and squeezes, like she had to his hand before, and she finally relents her position, softening her posture and stepping away from the door into the rover. She heads toward his bunk, because hers is on the top and she can't settle into it comfortably. ]
We'll figure out a way. Ask Squad Leader Hange [ because she's a scientist, would love to find a way to trap one of those harpies ] and the instructors.
[ She's not giving up the fight, because it's theirs. It's their lives on the line, she's just not rushing into the battle, blind and ignorant. ]
[He doesn't answer. And for a while, he doesn't budge. Hangs by the doorway in mute but slowly simmering anger until it's clear that whatever this message was, they're done sending it. Those things in the air aren't titans, they don't slow down at night. There are a hundred reasons why heading out alone into the black of the night to chase them down for vengeance would be a terrible idea. They can't stand for this, they'll fight back. They can't do it alone.
Finally, eventually, he takes a step backward. And another. Until he's turning and ducking in under the top of the bunk to drop gracelessly and tiredly down onto it. Too-close to Mikasa, knocking shoulders with her in an unsubtle way, knocking his head back against the hull of the rover to fume silently at her side. He hadn't had the time or the foresight after waking to stop and pull his boots on, his winter coat, his weapons. Because he'd needed to know what was happening (what was happening to her) and if it came to the worst, the best weapon he has is himself. The snow they'd trailed in after them is melting onto the floor, to the tsking of the haroomba.
His hands are pulled into fists, resting on his bent knees.]
The hell were you doing out there, anyway?
[Because she was out there in the thick of it, and he hadn't even known it. Wouldn't have known she was in danger until it was too late. (And isn't that a taste of his own medicine?)]
[ The tension in her shoulders finally fades somewhat when he steps away from the door, and she allows herself some relief when he sits down beside her, accepting the proximity with ease. It's not through conscious effort that she keeps a physical distance from most people that she meets, and similarly it's not on purpose that her shoulder stays pressed against Eren's, leaning on him, and being leaned on in return.
Her eyes are down on her lap with fatigue as she answers. Her hands folded there neatly. ] I was returning from my outpost shift. [ Which is why she's still in full uniform, and she should probably take off her boots to clean, put her dirtied cloak in the wash.
But she stays put for now, just soaking in the warmth and comfort of having Eren here with her, not out there being massacred, exploited, or martyred. Just here, where he'd stay for now. ]
We should visit Armin in the morning. [ Armin, who'd been gone so long. ] He should be safe.
[His jaw works, his weight against her a comfort that is thoughtless but deliberate. Because the last few days are catching up to him, because he could use the reminder that she is here and unharmed. (Because he does everything he can to be steadfast and strong but he is also human, no matter how hard he tries and wishes to take on every burden he can.) It was strange, at first, the three of them sleeping in the same place for the first time since they were refugees. But it's a natural enough rhythm to fall back into. Like breathing. And Armin's absence is an uncomfortable hitch.]
Yeah. [Armin, who has been gone for days in medical, and he feels the absence keenly already. (Especially now, when he doesn't know what to do. When he doesn't know what has happened to him. The medtent had been safe during the lockdown. Just because it was safe once doesn't mean it would stay that way. He won't let himself accept that anything happened.) His knuckles white, but his shoulders slack, the fight draining out of him and leaving him feeling sick and tired and shaky. His head bows to knock against hers, huddled close in the space of the bunk. Quiet, for once.] He is.
[ She shifts automatically when his head falls slightly, so that it can press against her shoulder. He's been working himself too hard, which isn't unusual, though it's gotten rather excessive in the past couple days, and he should probably go back to sleep instead of stewing over this. She doesn't know how successful he'll be, if she's honest, trying to go back to sleep now; trying to push the thoughts of their fellow recruits massacred and mutilated out of his mind. The thought that it could have just as easily been one of them.
She pushes the thought out of her mind.
Her hand goes to his knee, offering yet another squeeze with a quiet ] Eren [ and what she means is I'll exhaust everything I have to make sure that we're okay.
Gently, she nudges him before pushing off the bed. She's too tired to wear her uniform right now. Too tired to deal with the press of the buckles, something that she doesn't even notice after all these years except for moments like this when she's weary from battle, and wants to enjoy her spoils, if only for a bit (moments of peace, with her family).
Standing, she sheds her cloak as she toes off her boots, setting them and her sheaths beside her bunk before moving to drop the cloak, her jacket, and her scarf in the pile of dirty clothes.
It's while she's unbuckling her harnesses that she looks back over at Eren. ] Are you going to sleep?
[They'll be okay. He won't let things end here. (She won't either.)
He does not topple when she eases out from under him, but he has to readjust his weight to lean back against the hull of the rover instead. Eren's always been good at ignoring his limits, trying to work past them. The stakes are too high for anything else, both here and back home. It still wasn't enough, this time.
He had been sleeping, before the hail of corpses had started. It's unlikely that he'll manage it again very easily, not now. It's about the last thing he wants to do, for all he's still worn thin from the previous few days. It already feels wrong, that there's little he can do but sit in useless frustration, in choked outrage on behalf of the people outside they'd failed to save. That he won't be able to put a name to for hours. Until then—
He shakes his head, despite the dark marks under his eyes like bruises, the slow tilt to his reactions. He lifts his head to seek her out, watching with a furrowed brow and his mouth set in a grim line as she rids herself of her bloodied jacket and follows it with the familiar motions of unbuckling her harness.]
[ It's not really about sleeping easy. Mikasa can't remember the last time she slept easy; it's not a luxury afforded to those at war. (And she's still struggling to determine whether or not she finds the CDC more or less safe than living within those walls.) But it's a necessity, because a soldier that cannot fight is useless.
But she just shrugs, putting her harness away, easy, methodical. ] I'll shower then sleep.
[ The exertion of the day lingered on her enough, and the fatigue of constant vigilance so a shower would do her good - hopefully. It was a space where she could at least close her eyes and ignore whatever was going on outside, maybe plan her next route for a run, think of new ways to improve on her aim with the gun.
(She doesn't think about what's after this, about the future beyond the fighting, because she knows that she will die before it reaches her.) ]
You should rest, Eren. [ She casts a glance back toward him as she walks toward her locker to pull out the clothes for after her shower. ] You don't want to get sick again.
[That's about how it goes. Work yourself hard enough during the day and maybe you'll get a full night's sleep before the next one. (You won't twist or turn with worries or start awake with nightmares.) His answer comes on a kneejerk. A familiar small frustration muted and distracted by a newer and larger one.]
I'm not a kid, Mikasa.
[He doesn't need coddling, or ordering around, or putting to bed. He isn't going to get sick. (He will, and it'll land him in medical for days. By the time she's out of her shower he'll be dozing. Propped up against the cool hull of the rover, arms crossed over his bent knees, head nodding down toward his chest. Just where she left him.)]
[ She knows. And she'll be treating him like this until he's old and grey (ha, well Eren will make it; if no one else, Eren will—) But she knows. Even though some of the others in the camp cry outrage about child soldiers, she knows that they're not children. There's no such luxury, not where they come from, nor here.
There's no response from her to his comment, instead she lets him be; let's him doze off while she showers, hoping that he actually does sleep while she's in there, and unable to deny the relief when she sees him after she walks out, towel around her shoulders to protect them from the water dripping down from her hair, cooling rapidly against the air.
And she's silent as she walks over to stand by his side, just watching; Eren in Armin's bunk. Marvelling that he's still here, despite every time that she'd gotten so scared, despite every inane mission that he'd been sent on. He's here and she can't know for how long. (She tells herself forever in her head sometimes, even though she hopelessly knows it isn't true. He'd died once already, and she's even more helpless now than she had been then. She'll die or he'll die eventually, and she'll be alone, a family broken when that's the last thing)
If nothing else, she's glad that he's able to get some rest, and it's only because she knows that he's a light sleeper that she doesn't move him into a more comfortable position or nestle him under the blanket. She might've, if they were still children back in their home with Carla and Grisha.
But they're not. They're soldiers now, so instead she just murmurs a quiet goodnight before turning away and retreating to her own bunk for the night. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ It doesn't look like she's about to budge from where she's stationed at the door, almost daring Eren to try and face her. But she's not lying to make him feel better, and going outside right now would only rile him up. He'll have plenty of time to look at the pieces later on - who's going to be picking them up anyway? ]
Eren... [ She doesn't even look irritated, because she's not. Because sort of a little bit there are people in this camp that she'd miss if they died, and it's not like she'd had a chance to see who it had been that was raining from the sky. Maybe it was Ino. Kagari. Shiemi. People that she wouldn't stop for, but no doubt would mourn (quietly, internally, and alone) if they'd died.
Her gaze drops. ] It's not an attack, it's a message or a warning. We can't see what's in the sky, but it's not coming down to pick people off the ground.
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And he's not sure he's convinced they're not under attack. But he is convinced that she believes it. And Mikasa isn't stupid. (And she will tell him things he does not like, but she will not lie to him.) Even if it's a message—]
Are we just gonna let them do this?
[He doesn't know everyone in the CDC. He doesn't like all of them. It doesn't matter. They're comrades, right now. Even if they're dead already, even if it's a warning, are they planning on bowing to it? Letting the things that killed them just get away with it?]
oh my gosh are you comparing mikasa to jean with that icon
What do you plan to do? [ Her eyes are narrowed, like his righteous anger doesn't impress her, and really, it doesn't. ] There's not enough light out to see, and they're flying far out of our reach.
[ She doesn't move. ]
Are you going to waste your bullets, Eren? Trying to shoot them. Or transform and try to reach them? [ And destroy the camp in the process. It sounds like she's taunting him but, maybe she's a little frustrated too. Maybe she's a little stricken by how little control they have here and this isn't the first time fellow recruits had been snatched from them. What if next time it's Eren? ]
Eren. [ Her gaze his heavy, focused on him. ] What are we going to do to make sure we stay together? [ She doesn't mean in this rover, or for one mission. She means on the same crew, the same planet. ]
I only have so many Mikasa icons???
He takes her by the shoulder, as if to push her out of the way, but he never actually gets around to doing anything of the sort.]
I won't—
[Won't what? Hide in here while those things get away? Let anything (anyone) take her from him? Those are easy claims to make. The how is much harder, sheer force of will only gets him so far. He doesn't have a good answer to any of that.
He hasn't backed off. He doesn't advance, either. Stuck in a useless and frustrated place between cowed and combative. Stiff and straight-backed and breathing sharply, teeth and fists clenched, spare inches away from her. Head bowed, eyes falling from staring her down to searching the darkness outside, visible over the hollow of her shoulder. Those harpy things had killed Sasha because he couldn't stop them. The CDC had taken Isabel away and reassigned her somewhere else before they even knew she was gone. There are people out there who are dead and they won't even know who they are or what had killed them until it's clear and light enough to count the bodies. There is little that he hates (and fears) more than feeling (being) helpless.
His jaw claps shut as something thuds against the hull of the rover again, one last time. His fingers on her shoulder draw tight. But already the uproar outside is tipping from attack to aftermath. It only takes so long to send a message like this one. The occasional sick slap of gore on the snow has slowed, the sound of something swooping by overhead is fading. They're too late and too little, and he hates it.]
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She doesn't want to see him defeated. (She doesn't want to see their fellow recruits murdered, either. To see the people of this camps, victims most of them, traumatized like this for no purpose. Their instructors aren't trustworthy, but she believes slightly in the innocence of the recruits. They're all trapped here, at the mercy of a power bigger than anything most of them could've previously imagined.)
Reaching up, she takes his hand on her shoulder into her own, squeezing it for a moment before a moment before returning it to his side.
The rover is still around them, the atmosphere thick and tight, like a throat clenched with feeling, unable to express or ignore. She can feel the tremors of something like regrets or desperation, and as much as she lectures for Eren to stop and think, her own thoughts yield nothing. She can't think of anything to do but obey and hope to survive. Obey and live of the offered strength of the CDC. And she doesn't know how long that will last. ]
Eren, it's not selfish you prioritize yourself sometimes. [ Finally, with some delay. She thinks, so don't go out there and pick fights. ] You know you can't keep fighting otherwise.
[ That's what he'd taught her. To fight. To live. Don't extinguish that flame by burning up all the oxygen too fast; pick your battles, save your energy. She can't afford to expend herself, to expose herself now when he might need her later. So pick your battles, a successful mission revolved around avoiding the most titans back home. ]
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Being a priority. It is selfish, to do whatever you want when there are bigger things at stake. When humanity is at stake. Sometimes you need to do things you don't want to do. And sometimes that means fighting when you want to hide...or hiding when you want to fight. While he understands the need for it, it doesn't sit easy on him. It probably never will. But it goes hand in hand with responsibility, and that is something that he tries very hard to measure up to. (Like the elite Garrison team and all the others (Marco) in Trost. They gave their lives so he could stop the city from falling. He needs to be worth all those lives, or all of it will be a waste.) His hand is tense under her fingers as she pulls it away, eases it down to his side. Just shy of trembling, as it balls itself back into a fist, blunt nails biting deep (but not deep enough) into his palms. Quieting, but far and away from calm, watching the black out the hatch of the rover in a desperate and determined way.]
I'll kill them.
[It's not what she wants to hear, but he does stay. They're already gone, he's already too late, they don't need to sit around and wait for this to happen again. He cannot help but think of Armin and the Captain out in the med tent. The others out who knows where. He does not cry, but there is a fierce upswell of frustration, a strangled and wordless thing caught in his throat, caged behind his teeth.]
They can't keep doing this.
[And it's clear where he's going with that, what he thinks the enemy is. Those harpy things, the ones from the lockdown. Appearing without warning, picking people up and tearing them limb from limb. It's happened before, the first fatalities they'd had on the whole mission. What else could it be?]
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Her hand finds his shoulder and squeezes, like she had to his hand before, and she finally relents her position, softening her posture and stepping away from the door into the rover. She heads toward his bunk, because hers is on the top and she can't settle into it comfortably. ]
We'll figure out a way. Ask Squad Leader Hange [ because she's a scientist, would love to find a way to trap one of those harpies ] and the instructors.
[ She's not giving up the fight, because it's theirs. It's their lives on the line, she's just not rushing into the battle, blind and ignorant. ]
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Finally, eventually, he takes a step backward. And another. Until he's turning and ducking in under the top of the bunk to drop gracelessly and tiredly down onto it. Too-close to Mikasa, knocking shoulders with her in an unsubtle way, knocking his head back against the hull of the rover to fume silently at her side. He hadn't had the time or the foresight after waking to stop and pull his boots on, his winter coat, his weapons. Because he'd needed to know what was happening (what was happening to her) and if it came to the worst, the best weapon he has is himself. The snow they'd trailed in after them is melting onto the floor, to the tsking of the haroomba.
His hands are pulled into fists, resting on his bent knees.]
The hell were you doing out there, anyway?
[Because she was out there in the thick of it, and he hadn't even known it. Wouldn't have known she was in danger until it was too late. (And isn't that a taste of his own medicine?)]
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Her eyes are down on her lap with fatigue as she answers. Her hands folded there neatly. ] I was returning from my outpost shift. [ Which is why she's still in full uniform, and she should probably take off her boots to clean, put her dirtied cloak in the wash.
But she stays put for now, just soaking in the warmth and comfort of having Eren here with her, not out there being massacred, exploited, or martyred. Just here, where he'd stay for now. ]
We should visit Armin in the morning. [ Armin, who'd been gone so long. ] He should be safe.
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Yeah. [Armin, who has been gone for days in medical, and he feels the absence keenly already. (Especially now, when he doesn't know what to do. When he doesn't know what has happened to him. The medtent had been safe during the lockdown. Just because it was safe once doesn't mean it would stay that way. He won't let himself accept that anything happened.) His knuckles white, but his shoulders slack, the fight draining out of him and leaving him feeling sick and tired and shaky. His head bows to knock against hers, huddled close in the space of the bunk. Quiet, for once.] He is.
oh that icon is cute...
She pushes the thought out of her mind.
Her hand goes to his knee, offering yet another squeeze with a quiet ] Eren [ and what she means is I'll exhaust everything I have to make sure that we're okay.
Gently, she nudges him before pushing off the bed. She's too tired to wear her uniform right now. Too tired to deal with the press of the buckles, something that she doesn't even notice after all these years except for moments like this when she's weary from battle, and wants to enjoy her spoils, if only for a bit (moments of peace, with her family).
Standing, she sheds her cloak as she toes off her boots, setting them and her sheaths beside her bunk before moving to drop the cloak, her jacket, and her scarf in the pile of dirty clothes.
It's while she's unbuckling her harnesses that she looks back over at Eren. ] Are you going to sleep?
[ And it's half a suggestion. ]
no that tag is cute.......
He does not topple when she eases out from under him, but he has to readjust his weight to lean back against the hull of the rover instead. Eren's always been good at ignoring his limits, trying to work past them. The stakes are too high for anything else, both here and back home. It still wasn't enough, this time.
He had been sleeping, before the hail of corpses had started. It's unlikely that he'll manage it again very easily, not now. It's about the last thing he wants to do, for all he's still worn thin from the previous few days. It already feels wrong, that there's little he can do but sit in useless frustration, in choked outrage on behalf of the people outside they'd failed to save. That he won't be able to put a name to for hours. Until then—
He shakes his head, despite the dark marks under his eyes like bruises, the slow tilt to his reactions. He lifts his head to seek her out, watching with a furrowed brow and his mouth set in a grim line as she rids herself of her bloodied jacket and follows it with the familiar motions of unbuckling her harness.]
Are you?
[Could you? Sleep easy after this?]
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But she just shrugs, putting her harness away, easy, methodical. ] I'll shower then sleep.
[ The exertion of the day lingered on her enough, and the fatigue of constant vigilance so a shower would do her good - hopefully. It was a space where she could at least close her eyes and ignore whatever was going on outside, maybe plan her next route for a run, think of new ways to improve on her aim with the gun.
(She doesn't think about what's after this, about the future beyond the fighting, because she knows that she will die before it reaches her.) ]
You should rest, Eren. [ She casts a glance back toward him as she walks toward her locker to pull out the clothes for after her shower. ] You don't want to get sick again.
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I'm not a kid, Mikasa.
[He doesn't need coddling, or ordering around, or putting to bed. He isn't going to get sick. (He will, and it'll land him in medical for days. By the time she's out of her shower he'll be dozing. Propped up against the cool hull of the rover, arms crossed over his bent knees, head nodding down toward his chest. Just where she left him.)]
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There's no response from her to his comment, instead she lets him be; let's him doze off while she showers, hoping that he actually does sleep while she's in there, and unable to deny the relief when she sees him after she walks out, towel around her shoulders to protect them from the water dripping down from her hair, cooling rapidly against the air.
And she's silent as she walks over to stand by his side, just watching; Eren in Armin's bunk. Marvelling that he's still here, despite every time that she'd gotten so scared, despite every inane mission that he'd been sent on. He's here and she can't know for how long. (She tells herself forever in her head sometimes, even though she hopelessly knows it isn't true. He'd died once already, and she's even more helpless now than she had been then. She'll die or he'll die eventually, and she'll be alone, a family broken when that's the last thing)
If nothing else, she's glad that he's able to get some rest, and it's only because she knows that he's a light sleeper that she doesn't move him into a more comfortable position or nestle him under the blanket. She might've, if they were still children back in their home with Carla and Grisha.
But they're not. They're soldiers now, so instead she just murmurs a quiet goodnight before turning away and retreating to her own bunk for the night. ]