"Miss Ackerman." Erwin beckoned to Mikasa and she tied the leads of the horse she was training to a nearby pole.
Her back stiffened as she caught the prickly gaze of the shorter man standing by her master.
"I'd like you to meet Levi. He'll be our primary jockey from this point forth. Since you'll be training with each other every day until race day, do try to get along with each other." Erwin left with a knowing smile and sauntered back to the stables.
Mikasa eyed the smaller man. He had a good stature for a jockey: short, but not overly thin, and his narrow face belied a fierce countenance. He was already dressed in a uniform displaying their colors—a sprinkle of white and blue amidst a sea of forest green—and the matching silk around his neck was tied expertly.
"You're a trainer, are you not?" Levi asked gruffly, grounding the heel of his boot into the dirt of the manege. "Care to acquaint me with the different tack this stable uses?"
"A beginning trainer, sir," Mikasa instinctively corrected and gestured to the small pin on her shoulder indicating her rank within Erwin's school.
"Does it matter?" Levi shrugged absentmindedly and waved her off, the tight sleeves around his upper arms straining against the movement.
Mikasa frowned. The nerve of this guy. "I suppose not. But perhaps you'd like to have a senior trainer show—"
"Like I said, does it matter?" He walked past her and Mikasa caught a whiff of something fresh lingering in the air after him. "The fact that you're here and not at the Academy still is proof enough to me that you've earned your place among Erwin's best. Mikasa, is it?"
The more the man spoke, the more Mikasa was beginning to get slightly amused. Levi had a strange accent—French, or some other Romantic dialect—and it was starting to draw her in ever so closely. She pursed her lips and followed him toward the main stable.
"Ah. There you are. I was beginning to wonder if you would come to your senses." His heels clicked against the wood of the floor.
"We mainly use the English saddle here—"
"Do you have any Westerns?" Levi immediately interrupted.
"A few. Just for the…children, though," Mikasa pointed to a corner on the tack wall. "And the cavesson style noseband with the bridles," she trailed her finger across the wall, indicating each piece of equipment. "I'm also training to be a hunt seat rider, so we also have the appropriate tack and gear for that sport as well."
Levi nodded, drinking in the information pouring out of Mikasa's mouth. "I'll be riding Opaleye then?" He raised an eyebrow at the stalls, searching for the pale thoroughbred.
"He's a bit wild," Mikasa led Levi to the correct stall and reached out to massage the horse's neck. A creamy eye stared back at her and the animal tossed its head proudly, strands of his mane fluttering in front of Levi's face. "I think you'll suit each other quite well."
"And how's that?" Levi asked sharply. "That's a little presumptuous of you when you barely know me, Mikasa."
"All the more reason to begin training as soon as possible…Levi." She felt the honeyed words slide from her tongue, and she silently berated herself for being so bold and suggestive. Not that she didn't mean it.
Levi smirked back, the corners of his lips curling in an amused expression. "Oui, peut-être," he countered, a curious shine in his eyes growing at her confusion.
Flustered by his foreign response, Mikasa struggled to maintain her normally-distant composure. Oh to hell with it. "Care to go for a ride then…with me?" she asked weakly, hoping to high heaven she wasn't making a terrible mistake. "I mean, to test out your performance capabilities and plan your regimen—"
"Quit your blathering, farm girl." The reply came sharp and acrid, and Mikasa felt the heavy weight in her stomach drop to her knees. Farm girl? Then: "Only if you saddle up—I'd rather not bother with your particulars of tack right now."
She almost giggled at his sarcastic response—a horrid thought, Mikasa Ackerman didn't giggle like a giddy schoolgirl—and offered a feeble sneer at Levi. "I'm no farm girl, Levi. That's a little presumptuous of you, don't you think?" She threw his words back at him and his indifference dropped like a wet fish, his eyes narrowing in sudden interest.
"I guess we'll find that out on the trail, won't we?" He challenged, throwing himself into a nearby chair by the door. "Prove to me you actually know what you're doing."
"Likewise. Only if you prove to me you actually have some manners and aren't just some enigmatic prat who fancies himself a jockey."
"J'accepte, mademoiselle," Levi stood up and bent at the waist in a mock bow, and Mikasa almost laughed aloud at the absurdity of his pose.
Yes. He'll do quite nicely.