That night, Jean was pushed to within an inch of his life, but how surprising it was that all of it could be changed by just a single person. Jean hardly slept that night, laying awake thinking about his savior. He looked kind and trustworthy… but so did many others before him, and every one of them betrayed him in time. Still… Jean couldn't help but think about him, wondering what he was really like. He had to get to the bottom of this- to see if he could be trusted, or if Jean was just going to be used again. He would approach this young man with the utmost skepticism. When daybreak came, Jean joined his father and fiancée for breakfast before sending someone to summon Marco to the second class deck to talk—he wasn't allowed on the first class deck in his attire, so they had to compromise. For the next two hours, the two of them walked circles around the deck just talking, learning about each other. Jean learned that Marco was an orphan- his parents having both died several years earlier- but despite that, he was doing fairly well on his own. He traveled to and fro working odd jobs and helping anyone who needed it. It was a strange thing for Jean to comprehend… that a young man with barely four dollars in his pocket and no attachments could be so carefree and happy. He tried to question his character, but to no avail… Finally, Jean stopped walking.

"The hell is wrong with you…?"

"Mm?" Marco stopped walking and looked back at him, fiddling with a small pocketwatch. "What do you mean?"

"You just can't be real… you can't be this nice."

"Why not?" He asked with a smile. Was it so hard to believe that kindness existed?

"Everyone wants something. No one does anything for free, without wanting something in return." Jean's eyes hardened, though it was hard to maintain the look of seriousness. "So what do you want? Why did you save me?"

Marco was quiet a moment, a look of surprise flashing through his eyes before that simple, kind smile returned to grace his lips.

"I already answered that question, Jean."

"Ha?" Jean tilted his head in confusion.

"I couldn't just leave knowing what you planned to do." This was getting frustrating. Jean pivoted on his heel and moved to sit on a deck chair, sighing exasperatedly. Marco followed him and sat across from Jean, tilting his head.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No… yes… god, who knows…" Jean set down his sketchbook, which he had been carrying around with him this whole time, and Marco glanced at it. "I'm not a great guy, you know, Marco… certainly not someone you should have tried to risk your life in saving."

"I don't think that's true." Jean lifted his head at those words. "Everyone has problems… they have their bad points, but they have their good points, too. And, well… I think you are worth a lot more than you give yourself credit for."

"You don't even know me…"

"Maybe not, but I am a good judge of character." Marco sat back, resting on his arms. "Don't get mad at me, okay? But you don't seem like a strong person. But the way I see it, you never know what real happiness is until you've known real sadness. It's easy to take things for granted if you haven't been beaten down before." Jean listened to his words, unsure whether to be insulted or astounded by the boy's words… in the end, a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth moments before he broke out laughing.

"Geez, Marco, you sound like an old man!" Marco joined him in laughing, not at all offended by the remark. For once in his life, Jean felt… normal. He was hanging out with someone his age laughing like nothing else mattered. There was no decorum, no one to impress. For the first time, he felt free in his own skin. When the laughing died down, he rubbed at his eyes.

"Oh god… I don't think I've ever laughed like that before… I don't even know why it was so funny, but… it just felt so good!"

"That's good! Laughter is good for the soul, you know!" Marco gave him a wide smile full of joy and positivity and Jean couldn't help but return it. Now that the tension had faded, Marco glanced again at the sketchbook on the chair beside his new friend.

"So… do you draw, Jean?" Jean looked down at it, his fingers lightly tracing the leather cover.

"I doodle now and then… nothing special- or at least my old man doesn't think so."

"Well, next to ourselves, parents are rather hard critics… do you mind if I take a look?" A bit surprised, but delighted that someone took an interest in his hobby, Jean nodded and handed it over. He was nervous… he wasn't sure how he would be able to take criticism in the delicate state he'd been in, but Marco only had positive things to say. Jean often drew sketches of the servants in his household as they worked- barely able to leave the main household. There was a sketch of his father, and several of Mikasa. Marco stared at them a long time.

"I think you like this girl…" He commented.

"Well she's… she's my fiancée actually. I've had the biggest crush on her since we were kids."

"Wow…" Marco's eyes got somewhat sadder, and Jean couldn't understand why. "So I guess things aren't so bad for you after all, huh?"

"…Wrong." Jean took the book back and closed it, sighing. "We might be engaged, but she hates me… The only reason we're getting married is because it's what our parents want."

"Oh… Jean, I'm sorry…" Marco held out his hand and rubbed Jean's back. The circular motion was soothing, and Jean closed his eyes, accepting the rare display of comfort.

"It's fine… I've accepted it. I'll never have her heart… so I'll just do what I'm told and deal with it. Forever."

"Well that doesn't sound like much fun."

"It's my life, Marco. No fun included." Jean pouted, feeling like he was being teased. "We can't all be free spirits like you, you know."

"Sure you can." Marco turned Jean's face so their eyes met, the faintest blush forming across Jean's face, though he couldn't understand why. Those deep, golden orbs, that soft, freckled skin… just what was this boy doing to him?

"Jean, your life is your own. Others may want things from you, but in the end, it's your life and you can decide what road to go down. I know it might seem hopeless right now… you might feel stuck, locked in… but the power to change is in your hands, and you will eventually find the strength to harness it." Jean was feeling empowered by those words… the hopelessness that he had felt all his life was starting to clear and the weight was lifting off his shoulders. Never before did he think that he had a choice- always following orders without question- but now the idea was planted in his head. He was so lost in these new, radical thoughts that he didn't see his father coming down the deck towards him. Erwin saw how close the boys faces were and he didn't like it. He stomped towards them, one of his associates, Mike, walking behind him.

"Jean." He said in a firm tone, startling Jean so badly that his head whipped around almost painfully. When he saw his father, he stood immediately with his hands behind his back as though addressing a military officer. The sudden movement knocked the sketchbook to the ground, but Marco calmly picked it up for him and stood. Erwin regarded the vagrant with a glare before looking down at Jean again.

"I see you're missing lessons in order to parade around with this lower-class citizen. Have you no sense of responsibility?"

"I-I'm sorry, sir! Forgive me! I didn't realize…!"

"That's no excuse!" Erwin rose his hand, as though to strike Jean, but Mike caught his wrist in the air and leaned in to speak calmly.

"I'm sure Jean didn't do it on purpose. Can't you see he's just socializing? It isn't often that he interacts with boys his own age. Can't you forgive it this once?" Someone was speaking out against Erwin? That was almost unheard of and it made Jean very nervous. But Erwin had known Mike a long time, and while he seemed like a kindly fellow, there was a darker side to him as well that few knew of. Erwin looked at him disapprovingly, but relaxed, lowering his hand.

"Fine. But I wont tolerate a second offense." He looked back at Jean, straightening his jacket. "Jean, come. You have duties to see to now before dinner."

"Y-yes, sir." Jean looked back at Marco as Erwin began walking off, who handed him back his sketchbook. He patted Jean on the back for comfort. "Thanks for the talk… you're still coming to dinner with us, right?"

"Of course. I wouldn't miss it."

"Good… well… I'll see you tonight, then!" Jean actually flashed him a smile before following after his father and Marco waved him off. Mike, however, stayed behind to size the boy up. He seemed kindly and honest… the type of friend Jean had sorely lacked. Mike, for one, didn't mind Marco like Erwin did.

"Young man…" He spoke up, drawing the boy's attention upwards. "Tell me, do you know exactly what you're walking into?"

"What do you mean?" He asked. So innocent, so naïve…

"You're basically being led into a trap, and if you're not careful, you'll be fed to the lions." He looked him over again, noticing his tattered jacket, his faded shirt and noting the holes in his pants. "What exactly do you plan on wearing tonight?" Marco looked down at himself for a moment, not knowing exactly how to respond. He really had no nice outfits, and only one alternate to what he was wearing. He motioned at what he currently had on which caused Mike to shake his head. "I thought as much… why don't you come with me?" And with that, Mike led him off to his own room. He conveniently had some clothing that was just barely too small for him, and with any luck, they'd fit the boy.