*sigh* School is back in session. T_T I work too so please bear with me with delayed updates. I have the next few chapters mostly plotted out, now it's just finding the time. I know I've been slow on building this so thank you all for your patience and for sticking it out with me to this point. :) You're the best!

I also went back and made a few edits on past chapters for grammar/shaving down some sentences.

Moreover, I want to give a collective thank you for the feedback on the last chapter! My writings can be a bit morbid so I was genuinely nervous on posting it and I'm glad it was well received! Please don't stop the feedback, even if it's constructive criticism. ;D

I've talked your ear off long enough so hereeee we go!

To say days without Annie were hard is a bit too dead on for how Armin feels.

During the day he looks to the sunny, cloud-spilled sky, scans over the dandelions littering the field Eren trains in and he's reminded of Annie. He wonders if she's enjoying her time as an MP; she hasn't responded to his letters asking if she is yet and frankly, he's not so confident she'll answer him. Armin exhales deeply.

He longs to see her again. The hat she gave him—the only tangible thing which proves Annie even exists—is kept at his bedside and when the moon is at its highest point, as he's staring into the stitches of woven straw and memories spin in his head, his night becomes—how his well-word crafting mind chooses to describe—especially...tough.

"I-I think I'm in love with her." Armin was next to Jean when Thomas confessed this about Mina. "I've never felt this way and the way she makes me feel...I get lightheaded and my body gets so warm and that gets worse and I don't want it to! I... I just…it's been going on for a while now and I can't take being quiet anymore."

"Why don't you tell her how you feel then?" Armin suggested kindly. "We'll have to clean up how you're going to communicate how you feel about her though. Those last few parts will make her uncomfortable..."

"He shouldn't have to tell her anything because he is not in love with her." Jean harshly assured Armin and their then alive friend. "You're just getting antsy like all guys do. Do yourself a favor and go whack off. I guarantee you that if she isn't in your head after you have all that energy out, you were never actually interested in her in the first place."

Armin squirmed in his seat and leaned over to quietly stress, "Jean, this is an issue which could end very messily if Thomas doesn't approach this right. It's private and you shouldn't bring that topic up in the mess hall..." Embarrassed heat smoldered Armin's cheeks. His mind drifted to the same place Jean's does, his face splitting from a sneer and snickered the same tune of mischief Connie and Sasha make. "I-I'm serious!"

"For someone so smart, you know how to walk right into innuendo traps." Jean cackled. He looked back to their nervous teammate. "Don't worry, Thomas. We won't say anything about this. We know this is a long, hard issue you've been dealing with that—like Armin said—could have ended up very messy if you took care of it on your own."

"Jean!" Armin scolded.

"What?! I'm sympathizing with him. Where is your mind going, Armin?!"

"...Can we just stop talking about this please?" Thomas interjected, his tone humiliated and head bowed. "This conversation is really uncomfortable…"

"See? Now you made him feel uncomfortable." Jean accused Armin with a straight face.

"I did no such thing!"

"Sssh!" Thomas shot a finger to his lips when Mina and Annie entered the building. Once the two girls sat at a table at the other end of the room, he whispered, "Okay, I'll take your advice but how do you know that actually works, Jean?" Thomas raised a challenging brow. "I've never seen you with a girlfriend."

Jean flashed Thomas a bared teeth frown. His eyes flitted about the room and Armin knew he was making sure Mikasa wasn't near. "Just shut up and do it. Trust me. It works."

To add to his ever-growing shame, Armin listened too and took Jean's advice...and Annie still consumes every waking thought.

His intrigue started a couple years ago with innocent things—what it would be like to go on walks with her in a flower-riddled park or how her hair looked down. She was as cagey then as she is now and he'd have taken up the task of using a million pickaxes against the wall to make a hole if it meant seeing or hearing anything she has stored in her head, enlighten him with anything he doesn't know about her; at least knowing her favorite color would be nice.

Then he grew older and a sensation he always had shifted into something utterly unbearable.

Back then, this maddening itch was distracting enough when she was putting him in grapple holds and her smooth hands were crushing his bones rather than melting them. Now he has the image of her hovering over him through heavy-lidded eyes. Where her soft lips and hands landed sting like he has chicken pox—glued and radiating everywhere on his skin— and Armin feels like a new gate inside him has opened, leaving him to deal with this mind-consuming ache, this parasite which overwhelms every muscle and invades every thought so intensely, he feels to have ended up in a whole new level of hell.

"You need to be more like Yeager and spill what's on your mind." Jean addresses from across the dining table. "What's eating you?"

"Probably a stomach ache from the gruel…" Connie mumbles at his spoonful of clumpy grey. "I would bet money on how the Training Regiment's recipe is more flavorful than the Survey Corps's..."

Jean reciprocates Connie's input with a grunt but his eyes are fixed on their fellow Scout who keeps his head low. "Come on, Armin. We're your teammates so cough it up. We should know if you can't shake something on your mind."

"Honestly, what isn't on my mind?" Armin side-steps, his speech level faint.

"Knock it off with your fancy-foot dancing around my question. You're more distracted than usual lately."

Like in the previous months, Armin's peripherals catch a see-through figure of Annie sitting across the room, her hooded eyes sneakily aimed on him before fleeing away when his head would turn. Armin tries to focus on his tasteless food.

"I'm just tired and there's a lot of thoughts I need to sift through." Armin acknowledges but doesn't go into detail. He smiles weakly. "I'm fine."

Visible irritation crinkles Jean's face and Armin knows his taller comrade doesn't believe him. His seriousness then morphs into a one-sided mouth curl. "Yeah, me too. Starting with it being even worse here than I thought. Eren sold the Survey Corp as an honorable lifestyle but it gives us the same crap food and living quarters as training did as well as a 99 percent rate to die. Go figure." Armin pierces a boiled potato with his fork and eats it as Jean continues, "We may as well be back in training at this rate. There's still boring classes and note-taking. The one-upside is Leonhardt isn't here to pummel any of us into the floor anymore. That got tiring quick. You and Captain-Big-Mouth always seemed to be getting the worst of it too."

A flicker of sharp defensiveness ignites in Armin's chest and he says carefully, "It wasn't all bad…"

"Getting thrown into the dirt, being given black-eyes, and put into the infirmary wasn't all bad?" Jean repeats incredulously. "It was like she was out to get you two."

"All it ever was is training. How she fought Eren and I was no different than she did with you or anyone else on the field."

"Looked more like she had a vendetta, if you ask me."

"Jean...stop." Connie urges, sounding guilty. "Let's give Annie a break. She saved both of our lives."

Armin's head lifts in surprise. He knew she saved Connie but not Jean. "She did?"

Jean's pinched nose fidgets about his face. "Yeah, yeah, fine. So she isn't completely soulless and her heart grew two sizes that day. Whoop Dee Doo. Still kind of screwed up how hard she went at people less coordinated than her though."

"It's just her teaching style to get someone to learn." Armin argues tonelessly. "Just how she is. She'll view it as insulting if someone tried to suppress their strength to her so she doesn't hold back to anyone else."

Jean's neck bends to the side. "How would you know all of that? She hardly talked to anybody."

Because I like her and actually tried to get to know her. His brain answers.

He swallows, offers a smile to his friends instead and taps his spoon on his temple. "Strategist, remember? I see things before you do and she showed me that by how she fights. Like I said, she spreads how she treats everyone evenly, both in behavior and fighting. That's the most of what I've got though."

Both Connie and Jean glance at each other and quickly make the relenting face and shrug of someone convinced.

Armin doesn't like talking about his personal knowledge—let alone personal interest—of Annie out loud so he shifts to, "I'm okay guys, really. My mind has just been preoccupied with a lot. From the Colossus coming back but not the Armored. How we need to go beyond the walls soon, the fact that Eren can transform into a Titan...Eren…"

"Gah," Jean groans and leans back a little in his seat. "Screw it, forget I brought up any of this. I keep forgetting how important that reckless idiot is to you." Silence falls over him. "My bad."

Armin's brows rise high on his forehead. It's a minor change but Jean's empathy has become more visible since Marco died, exposes shreds of sympathy when he hears someone else worrying. Armin extends to him an appreciative nod and a hope that Jean's inner sadness will be mended. He can't imagine losing such an important person, if it had been Eren or Mikasa who died...or Annie.

He shivers from the mere thought.

"If it gets to be too much, you know who to come to." Jean puts forward and stands up with his empty plate. "As a team, we need to know if we can help you."

"You can come to me too, Armin." Connie is next to stand up, an uplifting smile brightening his face. "We have to stick together more than ever now and you've helped me out a lot. I'll do the same for you! So if you need us, don't hesitate to come find us."

With his sincere thank you to them and a shut of a creaky wood door, Armin is left alone again; he hasn't been doing well when he is alone. He was as useless and motionless as a rock when a Titan ate Eren, and now, he must work past a lifetime habit of feeling worthless to keep his friends safe. His nerves are frayed, a brick of lead is weighing down his stomach, and Armin wishes Annie was here to help calm him.

The logic in him still struggles to understand why her presence is so relaxing; she hasn't really said anything nice to him—he can't remember any nice thing she's said about anyone, really. Then his chest flares with warmth at remembering her concern when they decided to join the Scouts, how quick she was to help him and others in need based off their early days together and her rush to save Connie, now even Jean. Through her actions alone he knows Annie cares, she's beyond reliable, she's smart, and her sweet, rare smile has a power to rob him of all other worries tormenting him.

Armin rubs his hands over his face, a sigh blowing through his fingers.

But less selfishly, he's glad she is far away from here. There's too much mystery flying around them and Eren and Mikasa are already in the crosshairs of mortal danger; if Annie was with them in this mayhem too...

"Armin," He looks up from his empty plate and finds Mikasa standing beside him, donned in the Survey Corp's green cape. She holds up a sealed, yellow envelope. "Letter for you."

"So, who's this guy who keeps sending you mail?" Hitch asks as she pulls one of her dresses over her head. "And I know it's a guy. You wouldn't be going out of your way to hide your letters if it wasn't."

Annie blinks at her probing roommate. "Just someone from my old regiment." She dares not say which person either as both Reiner and Armin have been sending her letters lately.

"Are they cute?"

"I don't see why that's relevant."

"I think you should have them visit you if they're cute or even if it's just a guy. You're too wound up for your own good."

"Mm."

"I mean look at this." Hitch throws open the closed curtains of their room, exposing the blazing yellow and orange lights from celebratory lanterns and the wind whipping colorful banners. "You won't even attend a festival outside your own living quarters on the night before our day off. If that's not sad, I don't know what is."

"I don't preach to you on how to use your day off so don't preach to me." Annie responds flatly. "It's my time and I'll do what I want with it."

A little huffing noise from the back of the throat leaves Hitch. "Sure, whatever. All I'm saying is what might make you less mopey and more social is going outside to get some fresh air or dance a little. Oh, and probably getting laid would help you out a lot. Just grab a drink and a mask if your choice ends up being ugly. Even a newbie like you should know you don't have to look at them while you do it."

Annie shuts her eyes for a long moment. When she opens them, a series of rapid blinks follows. "If that gets you through your day, then you do that. Just don't bring your boy-toys here."

"I'm better at hiding my toys than you are to your letters." Hitch sneers. "Come on, Annie. You have to live a little! You got out of a piss-hole district and now you're where the good stuff is! But all you've done is linger around here or headquarters and it's sad." She bumps Annie's shoulder and reveals a snide yet encouraging smile. "Now, now, just like shopping, dancing on the street or in bed isn't anything to be scared of. You've got me and I can help turn you from drab to fab. I'll make you look so pretty, you'll snatch up a rich husband and be bailed out of working by the end of the year. It's every woman's dream."

"Don't equate my dreams with yours." Annie frowns minorly.

"Sheesh. Fine, Ms. No-Fun. Be cold and unsmiling for the rest of your life. I'm going out and won't be back for a couple of days." Hitch winks flirtatiously at her roommate. "Try not to be too sad while I'm away."

The faint shouts and singing from outside fills her room now rather than Hitch's snarky attitude. Annie is a little unnerved Hitch advised her to invite one of her pen pals, wonders if she has somehow been snooping about or reading her mail. She dismisses the thought immediately, knowing with her precautions, Hitch figuring out anything within those letters would be near impossible.

Annie's blood pushes fast and hot through her in anticipation of Armin arriving tomorrow. Like in training, he has snuck into everyday thoughts and dreams during her time here in Stohess and she notices she doesn't feel so empty when her mind holds the image of him, rather feels the desire to rekindle old embers of hobbies which could have grown and come to full bloom but duty snatched the chance away.

Her hand clenches and rubs up and down her slender arm. Even the press of him holding her is still there and if she focuses hard enough, a hard sternum caging a passionate spirit is her pillow again. Doing this is a bedtime ritual now—scares off nightmares hibernating in the shadows of Annie's room and mind until sleep takes her—and if this anxiety-releasing peace is what came with being a normal girl with regular feelings, Annie would grapple or strangle whatever she could to keep this calm Armin gives her...and why she would actually go so far to keep it confuses her.

Hugs and kisses were a pathetic expression of weakness, her younger self believed. Anyone who chose to reveal who they were most fond of deserved to lose them; mice who play no tricks against the cat will lose in the end, after all.

Then he came and just the mention of Armin's name summons a salt, sea breeze on her face and a hot tingle on her palms. She's used to being a husk, not being so overcome with warring emotions, her body shakes, has to dig her fingers into her biceps to fight the intensity off. She can't even lie in her bed the same way after what she's done. His touch burns everywhere and no amount of self-attention or re-watching memories can replace him; she knows, she's tried and wouldn't Hitch love to know such an intimate detail, but she'll never say. This creature coiling her muscles never craved to be near another person so badly and these weeks away from him have only made everything worse.

Annie opens her closet and outfits herself in the laced-up shirt and dark hoodie of her casual attire before walking out of her room. Always, she needs distractions and she needs to find another one. She has little time left in this place but she's feeling curious today, wants to browse around the festival and go wherever the wind takes her as Armin said dandelions like her do.

He's arrived in Stohess on the night before they are supposed to meet and the city is far livelier than he had expected. Stohess is certainly another world as the streets are clean and have masses of masked people dancing in large circles; even the horses painted a multitude of colors in the parade look more well fed than the Scouts themselves.

He really should be looking for an Inn but Armin looks about vendor stands for a gift—old habits do die hard. Maybe he should get something which matches Annie's eyes; no, no, her hair; no. The indecisive teenager chews on his thumbnail, struggles to nail down which feature of her he admires the most. And in what way would she prefer it be presented as? Jewelry? No, with how practical Annie is, she probably wouldn't care so he dismisses the first thought. Clothing maybe? No...Hm...he's already used his best ideas and struggles to come up with more.

As Armin pursues his mission of finding another gift for Annie, a lushed up man with a five-o-clock shadow stumbles out of a circle of dancing civilians. He teeters in front of Armin and quirks a judgmental brow.

"-Hic- H-Hey boy, d-hic- didn't you get the message?" The man garbles. "You're supposed to be -hic- dancing not standing here!" The man speaks like there's a sock in his mouth so Armin politely smiles and shakes his head, feigning not to understand. The blurry-eyed man looks to the Wings of Freedom on his chest and Armin spots the horse of the MPs on the man's breast pocket. "O-Oh -hic- a fellow service-man, are ya? And the Scouts too. Ha. Your life -hic- m-must be shit." Armin oofs when a hand shoves a red mask into his chest and winces from a clap on his back afterward. "On -hic- the house! Now g-go have fun!"

The officer takes one long gulp of his bottle and stumbles to his group calling for him but he falls over on an unattended crate and crashes into a display of masks instead. The nest of MPs nearby bursts into laughter and funnily enough, so does the officer who sits in a pile of broken merchandise.

"Damn! I'm like a toddler walkin'-hic- here!" He guffaws again and looks to an ash blond cadet. "Boris! Go fetch more gin my bottle is empty!" The officer pumps a shaky thumb Armin's way. "And get one for the pipsqueak too. He's got s-shit -hic- luck so he'll need it."

Armin denies the offer when a boy his age hands him a bottle then takes the gin as a courtesy—and because a drunk officer who he doesn't trust is watching. He thanks them all and when all of the MPs chug their booze with clenched eyes, Armin darts away and leaves the bottle on a stand a couple blocks away for someone else to enjoy.

This atmosphere is too rowdy for him but Armin finds it in his heart to smile. These people are comfortable—celebrate an occasion so happily and without a care in the world—but a bitterness he could never quite squelch tightens his chest. He wonders if some of these people who dance and sing around him are the reason his grandfather and so many others were sacrificed, if the officers who relax and offered him a drink had a say or action in leading a flock of humans to slaughter.

What distracts him from having more morbid thoughts is when he passes by a fountain in the middle of the city square. Jesters juggle torches and colorful balls while performers display their tricks and body contortions, attracting many children and families. Two identical boys and a young girl are the loudest, weave around in the busy crowd and squeal as their two elder siblings chase after them. They're so carefree, Armin can't help but feel happy with them. Two adults who look as fond of the children as they are exhausted stand not far away and Armin determines they must be the parents. The older boy walks back to their family with his two brothers stored beneath his armpits while his sister holds the younger girl's hand. He considers this family lucky and Armin hopes he and his comrades can make it so many other families remain happy too, that they can have families just like all of these civilians have someday.

The steady beat of Armin's heart turns rapid. Someone else is staring at the same thing he is. Eyes he's so familiar with being lukewarm or unreadable are sad, look to have something which looks like yearning too.

He feels like a dog with two tails but Armin remembers to keep his composure—don't look too eager—and approach her calmly.

Armin steps toward her and he barely manages to not trip over his tongue when he says, "Annie?"

Alarm snaps the short girl's focus to Armin. She looks surprised at first until the cool indifference takes over her expression.

"You're here early." She clinically takes note.

His heart-melting happiness trembles with nervousness. "I only had one chance to take leave before they gave me another assignment so I took it. Honestly, I still thought I was going to be late." He laughs timidly and already, he can smell a heavy silence between them is on the horizon so he rushes to say, "What's that you got?"

Annie's serious expression flinches. They both look to the item she has slung over her shoulder. "Oh. This is just something I bought."

"Can I see it?" He cranes his neck to get a better look at a body of wood he's never seen before.

If slightly pursed lips and pink cheeks is Annie's version of being shy, Armin has been proven wrong; there is a way for her to look more beautiful. She pulls around an instrument the size of a violin only the body is shaped like a triangle.

"What is it?"

"Something weird. I think they called it a Balalaika." Annie takes out a tiny pick from the wooden stem of the instrument and glides the small triangle over the taut wires, a new sound sprouting from each strike. "It's one of the more oddly shaped instruments they play around here…but I like the sound of it."

The excited grin Armin has been holding down pulls higher. "Can you play something?"

Annie's brows flatten. "I've only just bought it, Arlert. What I just played is all I've got right now unless you want to hear what sounds like someone's pet dying."

"Oh...right. Well, I'm sure your dad would love to hear you play when you get more practice! Is he here yet?"

Cold he didn't expect creeps into Annie's eyes. "No. I'm too new to make the transfer request to the higher-ups. Bureaucratic crap and such." Annie tosses her head toward the mask in his hand. "What about you? What have you got there?"

"Oh!" Armin pulls up the mask he now sees is a red-horned devil. "An officer was feeling a little…happy tonight so he gave me this. This must be one of the scarier masks people wear."

He pulls the carved mask over his face and like a flash-flood, an idea moves his body before his mind can decide if it's okay. He claws his hands and raises them above his head with a dramatic roar, imitating a ferocious standing bear with his demon face.

Annie's unamused brows lift and chin pushes forward, like she's expecting something else to happen as he stands there stupidly. Armin's hands droop down to his sides. He lifts up the mask to idle over his forehead, his fingers nervously toying at the wooden edges.

"Yeah, I-uh," He clears his throat awkwardly. "I-I didn't think this mask looked very scary either. It just kind of makes you look silly really..."

His stomach plummets as a tiny smile quivers the side of Annie mouth. "No, I imagine you wouldn't find it scary. And you being silly wasn't...unentertaining."

A breathy chuckle leaves both of them in unison and Armin decides right then how he should just paint himself red already; every time he sees her, his face is always many degrees hotter and to make matters worse, she's showing signs of embarrassment too and it makes him blaze even hotter.

Armin has reached the end of all the small talk he can think of and before things between them turn odd again, he finds the courage to say, "I've really missed you, Annie." He pauses before unbridled joy lifts every feature on his face. "It's good to see you again."

The constant chill in Annie's gaze warmed, appearing a little surprised before she looks down.

"Hey!" A man barrels between the two with his posse close behind him. Armin hears Annie whisper, "Officer Waltz…?" as the man approaches a group dancing next to them. The officer grabs the man with a black eye mask and butcher's apron and tugs him until their noses are inches apart. "You dancing with my wife you prick?!"

The man in the black eye mask appears afraid and before the stammering fellow can answer, his accuser shoves him back and slams his knuckles into the masked man's cheek. A stocky man close by looks enraged—possibly the masked man's friend—and cracks a booze bottle over Waltz's head to which a member of the husband's group punches the man with the bottle.

All the men groan and the husband wipes off his face, his eyes full of fury as he spits, "So, you want to fight do you?!"

"Fight?!" A voice to the right frighteningly asks.

"Where?!" An eager person and more say.

"Uh oh." Armin lets out in alarm.

The group of men charge forward and with them, a chain reaction from the surrounding crowd follows. Punches and kicks fly, fits of laughter or pained grunts repeat everywhere, and losers fall to the floor.

"I'm surrounded by idiots." Annie grudgingly mutters. "We're going to have to clean this up when this is done, not those high-ranking morons."

They are quickly getting caught in a circle of increasingly violent fighting and there are few windows open for them to steer clear. Armin's senses heighten as he announces, "We have to go. Now."

He grabs Annie's hand and pulls her away through an opening between the two crowds. He weaves to the left and a rotund man being thrown into a thin woman's flower stand has Armin stopping and the lady shrieking. Armin runs to the right and a line of wrestling cadets who sock each other in the sides or groin block alleyways and street openings. He examines the abandoned vendor stands which run along the front of buildings and sees one which has been set up in front of a clear alleyway. Armin takes the chance and sprints ahead, jumps over the wood countertop with Annie as repeated whistles of on duty police sing behind them.

They run for a couple of blocks before he needs to catch his breath. Thankfully, the residential area they've wound up in is quiet and uneventful.

"That was close." He says in-between pants. "I was afraid we would end up in between a riot…"

"You think quick." Annie acknowledges. "And apparently, you have a tight grip too. Where was this strength during our training?"

The Scout looks at the petite soldier oddly, not understanding. He then glances down and his mouth jerks, his ears burning like steam is shooting out—his hand is still clasped around hers.

"AUGH!" He yips loudly and yanks his hand up and away. It hasn't even been ten minutes since they've reunited and he's already made things weird again. "A-Annie! I only did it cause—I didn't—!"

Annie puts her finger to her lips and Armin's mouth snaps shut. A smile imperceptible to others but not him blesses her face. "Don't tell me you're already an obedient dog to the military. That's the quickest you've ever shut up."

Armin's shoulders sag, too flustered to come up with a response except keep his gaze away.

"Since you're here, we may as well start the tour now." Annie proposes as she adjusts the Balalaika over her shoulder. "Any place in particular you wanted to see first?"

A loud, angry growl erupts from his stomach, deepening Armin's flush. He hasn't had anything decent to eat since...huh. Since the last time he was in a town, so for a few months now.

Amusement leaves Annie in a short gust. "Guess I know where to take you then."

The walk is a bit long but Annie guides him to a place where foods which would spur a ravenous rampage from Sasha bake in brick ovens or crackle over iron grills. His mouth waters as bandanaed cooks serve sandwiches, breads, and sweet goodies alike—there's even chicken and beef. He knew this place was wealthy but to think this much food was possible to display has him consciously forcing back drool. Even so, he wants to save most of his allowance on another gift for Annie so he shows two fingers to a cook when asked how many beef skewers he wants.

"Please." Annie scolds him. "Like that's all you're hungry for."

He doesn't have a say when she reaches into her pocket and flashes a badge of the MP. The cook flinches upon sight and scrambles behind the counter in such a rush, Armin so much as blinks and small lunch boxes of chicken and beef skewers are slammed in front of him alongside a round, wood tub of celebratory dumplings. It's been too long since he's seen so much food—almost gets dizzy from the sight of actual protein and not dry rations—but he still feels terrible because the customers before them frown at him, angry their food was robbed and had been given to him instead.

"If that's not a perk, I don't know what is." Annie sneers toward the irritated people.

"I'll pay you back for all of this." Armin offers as he picks up the food and tries to ignore everyone's glares. "It may take a while considering the Scout's current budget...but I will pay you back!"

"Don't bother." She rejects. "Just hand me two of those dumplings and we're square."

Armin doesn't even try arguing; he'll just have to repay her with one of the sweet breads he saw as a thank you since he's positive she won't refuse that. They soon find a large cathedral with stone steps and Armin determines this is a good place to sit. He swears in nearly five minutes flat, he's managed to wolf down three-quarters of his food already.

"I would say you look well," Annie puts her instrument down and leans against a granite pillar with crossed arms. "But gauging by how quickly you're eating, the Survey Corps feeds you just as well as the Training Corps."

Worse, actually. Armin thinks.

"The food shortage isn't as bad as the famine a few years back." He looks on the brighter side of things. "We'll manage." He takes an eager bite of his dumpling and covers his mouth with his hand when he glances up to her. "How is it here? It meet your expectations?"

"Food and living quarters are better. People are somehow more annoying and the MPs are funded far more than the Garrison and Survey Corp combined. So, yes. It's exactly what I expected."

"I'm glad you're being treated well here." He smiles with semi-full cheeks. "I wish we had the cooks you have by our headquarters. If hunting wasn't so scarce, we'd probably have a bit more abundance of meat…but we aren't so lucky."

"That's your own fault." She scolds monotonously and Armin's incisors show out of rising amusement—is it weird he missed even her criticizing him? "If you had listened to me and joined the Garrison, you could have been given your own house by now."

He chuckles lightly. "You're right. But the Garrison is not suited for me. That job is too...sedentary."

The sigh she lets go of is much heavier than others he's heard. "A brain like yours is rare. It's a shame a boy wonder like yourself chose the Scouts instead of an actual life."

Armin stops munching. When he swallows, he slowly rolls his vision to Annie, intrigue warming his cheeks.

"...You think I'm a boy wonder?" He asks in awe.

Annie hunches in on herself, like she's trying to duck away from something. Slight pink highlights her otherwise mildly serious face. "…Blind people can hear how you are one. But you bring up a good issue. Boy Wonder is too cutesy a description for my taste. Brainiac fits you better and you're the first one I've met who has self-esteem smaller than my baby toenail."

Armin can't resist—he laughs heartily. It's a barbed tease, but he takes her harsh nickname in stride; it's simply her sense of humor.

"I guess the other side of that coin is I could be full of myself." He speaks through his high-pitched chuckles. "And I would think me being arrogant would be even worse for you to deal with, especially if I made it in the Top Ten and came here with you."

Annie hrmphs. "...True. I get enough of that from the other cadets as is. If they aren't brownnosing the higher-ups or walking around with gigantic egos, they're drunk. You doing any of that is just…weird."

"And you do none of those things." Armin addresses admiringly. "You'll make a great MP, Annie. With your high level of precision and skills, I wouldn't be surprised if you grew in rank within a couple years."

Annie slants her head. "Have you been drinking?"

He looks at her quizzically. "...No. Why?"

"I was curious how such an impossible idea came into your head."

"I-I'm serious! You always had one of the highest scores on detective tests and with your fighting style alone, you could make the Military Police so much more efficient in apprehensions!"

"Doesn't mean I should be a higher ranking official for it."

"Doesn't mean you wouldn't have earned a promotion either."

Annie snorts with a small smirk. "You're adamant. Is it because you aspire to do the same thing? Rise in the ranks and command your own troops one day?"

Armin next laugh is weak and self-condescending. "Ha...that's way too much for me, I'm afraid. I don't think I could handle it. I'd rather be an average grunt in the background than be in the spotlight."

"You spend all those years around such an ambitious idiot like Eren and you still manage to sell yourself short."

Armin doesn't say a word. His sight glides down from her and to the pavement.

Who speaks the next sentence takes a while before Annie finally notices there's an issue. "...Still a sensitive topic, I take it." She remarks remorsefully. "His transformation, I mean."

A soft hum of acknowledgement leaves him. "I thought the shock would have faded by now but...it hasn't."

"Sorry."

"It's...it's fine."

Armin takes a few more bites of his food to fill the heavy silence.

"How's that front going anyway?" She asks a little more gently. "I'm surprised you responded as quick as you did. I'd have thought you'd all gone beyond the walls by now."

Armin shifts in his spot on the stairs. "The Scouts always need time to prepare." He dodges past the topic. "Resources to go outside are always scarce and after our last encounter with the Titans...I don't know what to expect. The only thing I know is that there's a chance we will all be surprised by anything. Nothing is predictable."

"...Yes." Annie murmurs faintly. "Titans can be unpredictable and come out of nowhere..." She unravels one of her arms and lightly taps it against his shoulder; No, he is not trying to keep a blush down right now. "Because of that, you better not overthink and be careful."

"Only if you do the same." He bats back to her. "I know Stohess is safe but illegal drug activity and human trafficking has been rising for some time now. I'm starting to think blocking off the house from the forest started a gang war for contraband production..."

"I'm a big girl." Annie dismisses swiftly. "I can take care of myself. You just stay focused on surviving rather than other people's problems."

Armin's thoughtful noise is delicate. "Yeah...we have our job cut out for us. I've been so tired lately, I had to splash water on my face repeatedly just to stay awake while riding here. But all of the stress will be worth it. We'll eradicate the Titans and get to the basement...someday. And we'll make it so the people outside the Inner Districts can celebrate as hearty and happily as the people here can."

Annie snorts lightly. "Eren's ambition always was infectious."

"That was always part of our plan though. It's the first piece to a puzzle which I'm not even sure what the picture is yet...but to get to the ocean, we need to know more about the Titans. Need to get to Shiganshina. Then we can actually live."

"Even when you're at the cost of not living now?" She brings up pointedly. "What's the point of all your efforts if all of it's for nothing? You'll have wasted your life."

He shares a resigned smile with her. "Then I'll have died doing what I wanted to do and not as some desk jockey or Garrison guard. Eren and Mikasa will surely survive and follow through on my wills. Hopefully before then though, your father will be allowed into the city, if he wants to come that is. I'd like to say thank you for teaching you things which helped others." His talking halts before his lips twitch fondly. "If I were in your shoes and my parents were still alive—if I tried to get them to come here—...I don't know if they even would come. Their faces are too fuzzy now but I remember Mom telling me of how proud she was of where she lived, of the business and family she and Dad built. But maybe, I wonder if it's mostly because of what they built on why..." He bites his tongue. Annie is squinting her eyes questionably, so he cuts himself off from that road, "I was born and raised in that house too so I bet it would be hard to leave so many memories which were created there. I'd imagine your father would be just as stubborn too, to not want to leave all those memories of the house you grew up in behind." His tone grows lower, edging near inaudible. "I wonder...if I'll have a chance to see my own home again…even if it is only rubble now."

"...You talk about all of this as if you've already conceded you'll die." Annie mutters, her voice tense and quiet. "So much for you listening to me when I told you to survive."

"Ah...I must sound like that, don't I?" Much like his mood, his vocals sound gloomy. "And it's not that I'm not trying to survive at all. It just sounds right that us Scouts have to think like we will die. Maybe talking about it out loud makes me less scared about a fact which was is inevitable. I can help the Scouts plan and orchestrate attacks—be useful for once—but Eren and Mikasa…everyone, they'll be in the line of fire more than anyone else. We need capable soldiers who can fight the Titans and if anything happens to them…" He gulps hard. "My life means nothing compared to how important they are. There's no value I could add by me being a part of a battle, especially since Erwin is the best asset to humanity we have. I've seen how in depth he thinks things through and he's brilliant—far better than I could ever be. And if dying can be used to push all them along—if it saves their lives or grants victory—I'll...I'll do it. It's probably the only motivation I have which will make me do something next time. Not be some shaking, motionless mess like when Eren saved me and I can't…"He squeezes his eyes shut; his cheek can still feel the wind where Eren's severed forearm had whizzed past his face. "I can't watch losing a person I love again." He chokes out. "I can't and I won't. And because I can't, it's another reason why I'm...I'm glad you ended up not joining the Scouts with us, Annie." Armin has to blink away the tears burning his eyes but he manages a wobbly corner-smile when he twists his head to her. "You mean more to me than my own life too and I'm happy you're safe here. And if the situation called for it, what Eren did for me...I'd do for you in a second—for all of you."

The wind swaying long, yellow bangs hides Annie's face. She continues saying nothing and Armin understands the signal of how this conversation has ended. He doesn't feel so bad about how his rambling has ended things this time; he wanted her to know just how high in regard he holds her, to what kind of standard he keeps her at in his heart.

Armin yawns and in time with his jaw dropping, the bell in the cathedral tolls a loud announcement of midnight.

"It's late." He says as he stands. "Sorry for keeping you away from your original plans. The food was delicious! I hope they bring that cuisine to Trost someday!" Armin smiles affectionately to her. "Thanks again for the tour, Annie. I hope we can see more tomorrow. I saw a vacancy sign at an Inn a couple blocks back so I'll stay there for the night. Meet you here tomorrow morning?"

Annie's expression is unfocused as she looks to the tower where the bell rings, staring as if she's trying to see through it. Armin leans his head back curiously. "Are you okay, Annie?...Or I should just leave you be, shouldn't I?"

There's a sudden clench on her biceps— her fingers sinking frighteningly deep into her own muscle—then Annie unfolds her arms. Her hand moves forward and Armin's heart speeds into overdrive when small fingers thread through his and close. She tugs—this time much more gently—and pulls him down the steps with her.

A rush of heat floods his face again as he follows. "W-Where are we going?"

"Just follow me." She ushers him in a quiet voice. "You don't need to stay at an inn."

A/N:

Armin can hide behind that baby-face all he wants, he's still a teenage boy and I don't envy how badly his "issue" must get lol.

Also Annie is Russian in the real world and a grunge rocker in a high school AU. Put that together in this early 20th century-like era and I thought a Balalaika was fitting LOL. This dude can rock out to one btw. o_o

Alexey Arkhipovsky: watch?v=06NUKJS2p-Q

Songs listened to:

Distant Pt.2-Vindsvept

Without You Here-Goo Goo Dolls (Oh ya, we're going to corny town. But seriously, how is this not one of their more popular songs? It's been my fav for so long.)

Born A Stranger- Laura Shigihara