Often, after Petra's finished the stack of paperwork he sets her, she'll stay behind and keep him company until he's finished his share. Or he'll keep her company. Petra is someone who genuinely enjoys being around other people; one thing he'll never understand about her. The first few times she dropped by, he told her that she shouldn't feel obliged just because he was her superior. But he never told her not to come and she picked up that translates to You can stay in Levi-language.
(Hanji coined that term and he fucking hates it.)
So she'll stop by whenever he's up in his office for a while with a tea tray. Not as an order from her captain. On her own accord.
It makes him feel like they're friends.
And it surprises him how much he doesn't mind that.
He's not entirely sure when she started staying later. There's a small ugly voice in his head that nags that she slips past boundaries too easily because he lets her and that's dangerous so he tells the voice to shut the fuck up.
It just happened; she finished quicker than usual and absentmindedly drew on an empty sheet of paper and he didn't notice until after he finished himself. Her presence is calming and refreshing and he doesn't hate it. So he lets her stay longer now. Tonight is one such occasion.
"What are you doing?"
Petra starts slightly, glancing up at him. He's been watching her from over the rim of his cup for a while now. She's sat across from him quietly, crossing things out and rewriting different letters, her brow creased in concentration.
Sometimes she'll talk aimlessly about anything, from training to her family to silly stories. It's usually a one-sided conversation, but she knows he listens to everything she says. Other times she'll keep herself amused by scribbling on empty pieces of paper or reading newspaper articles and books. She likes to draw, he's noticed, even if she's not very good at it. Once, he asked her what type of bird she had sketched in the corner of the page, only to find out that it was meant to be a horse.
"Anagrams. My father taught me a game using them." She says, turning the paper towards him. The word is unfamiliar. He leans over the desk. Her neat, swirly writing fills up the page; a row of random letters are at the top, and then below it are rows of different words. He could've been looking at Hanji's hypothesis for all the sense it made.
Petra indicates to his dwindling paperwork pile. "Do you want to play? It'll be quick."
"I don't know how."
"It's easy. Whoever can make the most words in a minute wins."
"I don't know what anagrams are. Never had a need."
He's not ashamed to admit that he doesn't know which fancy literary terms are which. Frankly, he doesn't care. He got a basic understanding of the alphabet from his mother before she passed. He could read simple sentences. Compared to the other children underground, who couldn't read at all, it was enough. Knowing how to read big, fancy-ass paragraphs meant nothing when someone was about to cut your throat for a bite of old bread.
It wasn't enough when he joined the Survey Corps. As a standard soldier, he just about got by. Sure, he struggled with Titan and formation theory (apparently just listening to the teacher wasn't enough) but his blades quickly made up for his lack of notes. Practical had always been his strong point.
It was even trickier when he was made Captain because of the fucking paperwork. Hanji patiently went through the basic phrases and words he needed be able to write, but he still struggled sometimes. He couldn't write fast enough to get through the stacks and stacks appearing on his desk each night. Petra dealt with the ones that required long, detailed answers. With the more important ones that required his signature, she wrote what he should say and he copied it dutifully down.
"It's a word made by rearranging the letters of a different word." Petra explains. "Like this."
She points to her page. Her jumble of letters begins to make sense in his mind, recognising a few words. Flipping the page over, she writes her name at the top, spacing out the letters. "I always like to see how many words I can make out of the letters in my name. Pet. Tea."
"Rat." Levi says helpfully.
"Rat." Grinning, she writes it down. "Taper. Here, you have a go."
Underneath her mess of letters, she writes dow and turns the page to him. He glances down at it, then at the paperwork he still has to finish, then back up at her small, shy smile.
Fine, he'd humour her. Only for a minute, though.
"Veil." Petra says, staring hard at the paper. Levi stares down at the letters of his name.
"Vile. Evil." He prints the words next to Petra's. They're quite befitting for him.
"Oh." Petra breathes, stifling a giggle.
"I don't have any o's or h's in my name, Petra."
She gives him a flat look, but her eyes sparkle with amusement. Leaning over, she writes Live down on the list. He tries not to focus on the way her soft hair slides down past her face and exposes her delicate neck.
She purses her lips, deep in thought. "Hmm. I don't think we can count I as a word."
Levi says nothing in reply. Petra shuffles the paper into a pile and turns an old report over. "Do you still want to play?"
Fucking hell. Literacy games are far from his idea of fun. He really should be finishing the damn paperwork. But she sits there with her big doe eyes and he can't fucking find it in himself to say no.
"Fine."
Beaming, she slides him a paper. "Pick a word. No, phrase. More letters."
Uh. "Titan. Killing." It's the first words that come to mind. He's never really had anything else to focus on. "Killing Titans."
"Really, Captain?" He's told her that she can call him Levi (because he likes the way she says his name, that real fucking annoying voice whispers) when they're alone but she doesn't and he almost orders her not to call him that, but that pretty much defeats the purpose.
"Fine. Survey Corps." He matches her experasted look with one of his own. "Take it or leave it. I have work to do."
Huffing, she grumbles something under her breath about lack of creativity. She spaces out the letters at the top of her page and Levi does the same. Unhooking her timepiece, she lays it on the desk between them, watching to the thinnest hand as it ticks past the 12. "One minute. Go!"
The letters stare up at him, not registering in his mind, while Petra scribbles furiously opposite him. She slings an arm across her paper, as if he was looking to copy. The hand on the timepiece ticks on. For a moment, he half-wonders why he's even bothering with this. Petra's face of concentration, with her tiny nose scrunched up and her small pout, suddenly gives him a reminder.
He snaps into action, his writing almost illegible. He's so focused he almost doesn't hear Petra announce time up.
They push their pens away. Row after row of swirly, neat writing lines Petra's page. His looks messy by comparison. Well, it is messy.
"How many do you have?" Petra asks, counting hers. "I have seven."
"Twelve."
"Twelve?" Petra says indignantly. She snatches his paper up. "Half of these aren't even proper words."
He raises an eyebrow at her, studying her list. She has longer, more challenging words than his or's and up's and so's.
"It was more words, not better words." He points out. Damn, he'd forgotten how competitive she could get. "You could've made half of these up. What the fuck does spores mean?"
"It's something to do with plant biology-"
"That's all I need to know." Levi holds up his hand. She bristles, glaring at him, but she's biting back a smile. "I've still more real words than you've got. You'll never use spores in your sentences."
"Alright!" Petra throws her arms up. "No one wins. So we'll go again."
He resigns himself to not getting anything else done for the rest of the night. So maybe he likes anagram games. Only with Petra, though. He refuses to play again with Hanji after she got licentious from Scouting Legion. And after she used that word to describe what he and Petra do when she comes to his office at night.
a/n: i love anagrams. I suck at them though
completely unrelated but i had a dream where levi had to battle the beast titan on a fucking minecraft world. i hate my mind