His head was pounding and all he could think about was the storm razing his focus and the pain gripping his hands.

Armin had his eyes pinned on the night sky outside his window in the hopes of calming his nerves, looking at nothing in particular and not seeing much. He wasn't actually looking, mind ablaze with other things. Stirred by matters of burden and legacy and blame and other subjects that made him regret not bringing along anything to distract himself with.

Everything felt so hot and soft, swaddled into several thick layers that he kept pulled taut to his body with one hand, yet he couldn't find comfort. He might as well be asleep, but his brain denied him the comfort. Wrapped up like that and rolled into a small ball, the warmth was smothering, making it hard to breathe.

So be it, then. Armin didn't have the urge to unwind and make things easier for himself, revelling in the strain. He was just glad to be inside, in a warm bed, unlike…

The mattress behind him shifted as another body took place next to his, but Armin didn't try to look behind him, instead closing his eyes and pressing his face deeper into his hair splayed out thinly over the hard mattress. A hand on his shoulder. A concerned voice.

"Armin?"

The hand wrapped around his arm to secure him, so tightly that he could barely move it.

"Mhm," Armin replied, facing farther away in response to the pressure. "I'm up."

"Armin," the voice repeated, more urgently this time. More certain of itself.

No response, this time. If there was anything to say, just say it, don't linger like that. It wasn't like he had a lot of time left. Didn't he have somewhere to be soon?

Something was placed against his skin. He whined out a questioning hum, gripped by the sheets around him. He felt rigid and hot more than anything else, annoyed that he lacked the strength to move even a single muscle.

The object pierced the flesh of his forearm, but it didn't hurt him. It only felt freezing cold to the touch, soaking wet, such a heavy contrast with his warm body. A needle, perhaps?

Oh.

His eyes shot wide open but they refused to see. The needle was solidly lodged into his arm, no matter how much he tried to pull away, its diameter close to that of his forearm and crammed in-between unaccommodating bone and muscle with a crushing sting.

Comforting words were spoken to him but he couldn't comprehend them and they did nothing to calm him.

This wasn't how it had gone.

This wasn't right, and he wanted to struggle and thrash, but the stiff blankets wrapped around him held him back.

He managed to wriggle free and swing his affected arm, breaking loose from its veil only to hit a solid wall. All outside triggers vanished as he swung again — in a different direction, slicing through air — and again, this time hitting something hard that tumbled down with a loud thud that only sent him into a deeper panic, heartbeat stuck in his throat.

He fought his hardest to sit up and fight his assaillants to prevent this from going awry, and he swung wildly around him with the one arm he'd managed to free. He couldn't see them, but they were there, he was certain of it; shouting and screeching into his ears, far louder than his frantic panting, than his own yelling to back off, than the maddening heartbeat blowing out his eardrums.

Swinging particularly hard in a last-ditch effort to protect himself, one of them finally retaliated, full-bodying Armin so hard that he momentarily blacked out. Pain bloomed all throughout his right side, in particular his elbow, head, and hip. He pushed, hard, finding himself disoriented on the floor, and for once when he used his eyes to scan his surroundings, he could discern details in the pitch-blackness surrounding him. Furniture and walls, meaning he was still inside.

Propping himself up, muscles cold and shivering, he immediately checked the window above him to see if it had been broken, but his room was too quiet and too dry.

No time for that.

He untangled himself from the mess of textile twisted around his legs and rushed his door, pulling it open and casting the hallway's light on the situation at hand.

His eyes darted around the room but he found no one there. No one on either side of the hallway either. He stifled the base instinct to go fetch a lantern and look into the shadowy corners, maybe even run and get help. His grip tightened onto the door handle in an effort to force himself to stand still. Looking down at the hand on the handle, he saw a regular sweater adorning his arm, no bandages on his hand, and then, just beyond it, bedsheets crumpled up on a wooden floor.

This wasn't a hospital room, nor was he in a broken city.

Armin groaned as he let his shoulders sink, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes closed. He didn't remember falling asleep, but he must've been exhausted not to have changed into appropriate sleepwear first.

On trembling legs, he walked back inside his room. When was the last time he'd suffered a nightmare like this? A month ago? Of course they would resurface here.

He knelt in front of his bed to pick up the bedsheets, eyes falling on his nightstand. A water pitcher lay knocked over on its side, miraculously in one piece, and water had trickled down the nightstand and onto the floor, forming a trail right to where his sheets now lay on, one corner soaked pretty thoroughly.

So he wasn't going back to sleep. Not with a dry throat and wet bedsheets, and especially not when he was about to burst and he needed to scream his lungs out.

He pushed aside the bedsheets to avoid soaking them anymore and stood up to make his way towards the lavatories. While rinsing his hands in the basin for a few minutes to fully wake up and relieve the itch in his skin, he realised he must've fallen asleep following Hange's request to join them and mortification pierced his chest. An easy opportunity to warm up to them again he'd skirted on after promising to show up.

Great. Good job.

With the bucket and rag he'd fetched from the lavatories, it didn't take him long to clean the spill and wring out his bedsheets before draping them over his chair to dry. He laid down in bed again to get some rest, and while the nerves that his imagination had triggered were settling, his thirst and his aching muscles were far too distracting and all that cooling sweat was dragging his body temperature down.

He looked around his room in search of his blanket only to remember where he'd left it. Bertholdt better be living in that thing 24/7 if Armin was going to suffer for not having it with him anymore.

He absolutely didn't want to go back to the common room in case he'd run into someone, but did he have much of a choice? He wasn't going to drink the water from the lavatories' sink unless he wanted to get ill, and he wasn't going to stay cold. Better to get himself a drink and sit down in front of the remnants of a warm fire.

Strenuously, he pushed himself upright again, then left the bed. He stopped by his desk to brush his hair before he made a public appearance again. A quick glance in the lavatory mirror earlier had revealed that his struggle left his hair as wartorn as his mind and body. He'd only get jabbed at were he to encounter anyone.

With pitcher and glass in hand, he padded his way over to the common room on unsteady feet, still a bit shaken from falling out of bed earlier, and found it to be quite noisy at this time of the night, however late that may be. Entering, his eyes fell upon four policemen seated around the table, and two particular brunets instantly made him want to turn heel and make for his room again, water and warmth be damned.

"Didn't think you could look any worse but here you are."

Shit. He'd been spotted. After Svea called out to him, Trav and one of the other policemen turned their heads to look at Armin and he froze. No Hange in sight. He expected the worst to follow.

"Havin' nightmares, kid? We heard quite some commotion," a red-headed stocky woman with a country accent asked, and unlike Svea, there was no mockery in her words. Armin already felt the heat rise to his cheeks, then wondered why no one bothered to check out the source of this supposed struggle if they'd heard him yell and thrash.

"Don't tell me you dressed all up for us, how polite," Trav laughed, taking a swig from a mug that decidedly did not contain tea or water. His comment sounded more jovial than it did like an underhanded jab. An unexpected tone compared to his usual snark.

"Thirsty," Armin simply replied, demonstratively holding up the pitcher. "I didn't want to appear like a slob so I got dressed before coming here. I didn't know anyone would be up, I'm sorry," he said, breathily tacking on the last bit. Looking at the policemen, three wore civilian clothing and only the blond among them was dressed in something resembling night clothing.

"Nice and considerate, but you look like you got punched in the eyes. Not much you can do about appearing like a slob when you show up like that," Svea said, picking up a card from the table to continue the policemen's game.

Armin didn't respond to that, and the policemen returned to their game with their conversation moving into small talk related to what they were playing. Armin took the opportunity to walk past them and move into the kitchen section, where he filled his pitcher and glass. He stayed there to drink, looking outside the window. His eyes fell upon a policeman with a torch walking through the snow, passing by without noticing his presence.

The temperature was better in this room, but he also didn't want to keep standing in the kitchen or sit down on a hard wooden chair for so long when his hips and his shoulder and his spine and gods knew what else still ached so badly from falling multiple times in the past 24 hours.

He glanced over his shoulder, at the roaring hearthfire in the common room. Laughter came from the policemen as the blond man he didn't know shouted out his frustrations over having lost the round. Hange had said that the policemen were much easier to bear off the job, free to drink and smoke and laugh without being confined within a mine. Maybe they'd tolerate him if he silently sat down in front of the fire and didn't bother them.

It was worth the chance. He left the kitchen and padded past their table in one go so as to avoid making eye contact, then took place on the couch that had its back turned on them and put his pitcher down on the coffee table. So close to the fire, he already felt a lot warmer than he had the past twenty minutes.

Curling his legs up beside him, he leaned back into the couch and allowed himself to relax and rehydrate. He paid the commotion behind him no mind, focusing instead on the flames ahead, dancing and weaving through the air in hypnotic patterns.

Armin wasn't quite tired enough to fall back asleep considering he'd just been under all day and a good portion of the night, but regardless, he felt himself fall into a bit of a trance amidst the warmth and the pleasant atmosphere. His pain blurred with the background noise and his worries remained subdued. It was exactly what he needed after yesterday, and gods, did it feel good to once more get to breathe.

"You'll just have to beat the runts up if you wanna make a change, I guess."

Armin had been absent-mindedly tuning in and out of the conversation behind him, but that specific wording with that sardonic tone out of Trav's (or as Armin had learned from listening in, Travis') mouth woke him up and flared up his instinct to run. He glanced behind him to follow the conversation more attentively, only catching a glimpse of Svea in the corner of his eyes.

"Like hell I am, that ain't my job!" she snarked at Travis, slapping her hand on his arm. Travis barely flinched and only laughed at her dismissively, earning him a punch on top. "Are you ridiculing me? Dominic should be the one keeping an eye out up here, not me. I spend half of my time in that mine and even I can see they're just running around like children without even taking any blades or guns with them. Like none of us would notice with them shouting about."

"Jealous of their position, Sve? Sounds like a blast, being paid to play in the snow with friends," the redhead jested.

Before Svea could give her a killer glare, the blond who had lost earlier joined in. "I didn't know you cared so much about doing everything by the books." It sounded more like drunk mockery than an argument.

"Fuck said I do? Use your head. If the surface lets anyone through, guess where they're going next?" She pointed a thumb at herself with great exaggeration and looked up at the others. "Straight to us, and I doubt they'll ask us nicely to step aside if they went this far to come down here. We are guarding a living bomb, do you think that won't attract a lunatic or two with a plan to use it or put it down in an act of vigilante justice? Already forget what happened in December?"

Another blond policeman, one that wasn't there when Armin had first arrived, spoke this time. "Well, I wasn't here in December, so I didn't forget. Because I didn't know in the first place. No one knows that it's locked up here, anyway."

"Yeah? And who's making sure that this location stays hidden?"

"Um… Dominic?"

"Dominic, who doesn't even know what his own posted guards are up to. Yeah, he's a great candidate to keep the location top-secret and his men safe. I'm not getting stabbed by an extremist because he can't do his job." Svea almost sounded bored saying that. Unsurprising if she was more concerned with herself than global security.

The policemen went silent at that, and just as Armin considered turning his head back to face the fire, the conversation resumed and he stayed to listen.

"Hey, the one who's been staring at us over there. I haven't seen that one around. Who is that?" the newcomer called upon him. Armin averted his eyes as soon as he realised this was about him, pink dusting his cheeks.

"Oh, that? That's just Armin. The Survey Corps sent him to talk to the Colossal or something. He's annoying but harmless," Svea shamelessly introduced him with a dismissive hand gesture. Not exactly flattering, but he'd expected something more along the lines of 'the pain in the ass parasite I beat within an inch of its life today'. Annoying but harmless was an upgrade.

"Talk to… Really now? He seems mighty interested in this conversation compared to when he was dozing off earlier. Got anything to say?"

Fuck. This could turn south quickly.

"Um…" Armin turned his head again, body following this time to get a proper look at the table. All policemen were now looking at him with interest, as if he was going to drop some juicy details or confess some evil plan. He needed to get the heat off of himself, but asking about December was out of the question for now. Too conspicuous. "Who's this about? The, uh, 'runts'?"

"Karel, Egon, and Cecillia," the redhead said. "Y'know anything about 'em slacking off?"

Armin committed those names to memory in case he'd need them later. If the other policemen already knew that they'd been slacking off, Armin's small favour for not ratting them out a few days ago might have been voided, but that was no reason to burn the bridge.

He shook his head. "I've spent quite some time in front of my window when I was making notes and I didn't see anyone wasting any of their time. Maybe on the other side of the building."

"Oh," the newcomer said. "Oh, nice change of topic. He's talking to the Colossal and making it about those of us stationed up here when he's suspected. No one finds that weird?"

"No, Hearne, no one does," Svea nonchalantly answered, throwing a card into the game that had been interrupted by the tangent.

"Really, Sve? So paranoid about vigilantes coming down there to slice your throat only to ignore a kid who slipped right past your iron defences?"

"Let it go, Hearne," Travis scoffed. "He's trying to become the Colossal's little best friend. He ain't here to unchain a bomb under our noses or some other conspiracy shit."

"Survey Corps' Commander vouched for him and he tried to kill it multiple times in the past when ordered to. Doubt he's gonna be much trouble when he's not being a pain in my ass, especially doubt he's gonna commit treason just to put it out of its misery. The Colossal maimed him pretty badly, he's probably just here to gloat at how the roles have inverted."

Armin balled his fists at Svea's words and looked down on them purposefully, but ultimately chose silence.

"If he were a safety hazard, he'd be long taken care of," Svea added before taking a long drink from her mug.

"What makes you think he won't try to kill it again, then? He's clearly got the right motive."

"Spite. Cowardice. Life in jail–"

"Scorn from his besties in the Survey Corps," Travis interspersed.

"Whatever else they may do to him if he commits that sort of treason. He dragged a sleeping bag and a blankie down to make its section more comfortable, Hearne. Killing it doesn't exactly fall in line with this kind of kid glove treatment. I doubt he could ever kill a man if he wanted."

"Fine! Fine, I guess," Hearne admitted, throwing up his arms and leaning back into his chair.

Exceptionally weird feeling for these two to defend him, but Armin took anything he could get at this point. He wondered if Hange had talked to them, considering there barely were any threats involved, or if this was just the alcohol and the late hour speaking. Hopefully, it would carry over into the mines, whenever his next visit may be.

The conversation veered off again, and this time Armin stopped listening after a few minutes of caution. He wasn't exactly tired, but he also didn't feel like retreating to his quarters just yet. The thought of retrieving the folder to read some more made him shudder and he regretted forgetting to pack any books to read during his downtime.

His eyes fell closed and he enjoyed the heat radiating off of the now slowly dying fire.

When he awoke again, he hadn't even realised he'd fallen asleep. He stood in a field on a hot day, a hand holding his own. Another dream?

Maybe he'd let this one play out. His mind was kind to him this time, introducing no poltergeists or existential threats his way, so he let his imagination engulf him and take him under entirely.

A hand on his shoulder made him jolt up, looking behind him for his assailant. The redhead policewoman, who let go when his shoulders jolted.

"Whoa, hey, didn't mean to startle you, Armin. I was gonna ask if you wanted to join us. You looked a bit bored but I see now that y'were asleep…" The woman scratched behind her head and looked embarrassed to have misjudged the situation, especially with her colleagues looking at them impatiently.

"Uh…" Armin wiped a thin line of drool off of his chin, then looked behind him. Hearne had left since, but Travis, Svea, and the other blond policeman were still there. The redhead seemed genuine enough. Might be worth it to play a few games to keep his mind busy. "I suppose."

"Great!" she chanted, patting him hard on the shoulder a few times.

"Great," Travis repeated deadpan as Armin stood up from the couch and made his way to the table. "You better play for money, line my wallet."

"Money?" Armin asked, not quite fully awake.

"Yeah, money. Gambling. It's fun."

Armin had listened to their games in the background, albeit a bit absent-mindedly. He knew well enough how they worked when money was involved.

"Have you won any games tonight at all? Svea rakes in most wins, and all money, from what I've heard. Not that I've been listening."

"Yeah yeah, her wallet, mine, same thing. Don't be rude, brat."

Huh. Armin eyed both of them. The sharp cheekbones, the hooded brown eyes with a mean streak reflected in them, the thin chin they both sported. It wasn't so clear in a badly-lit mine, but in a bright common room, they did look related enough to be siblings, maybe cousins.

"Who said you can waste my money?" Svea asked, to which Travis only shrugged.

"No, thank you, I didn't bring any money here anyway."

"Put it on Hange's tab," Svea dryly suggested, grabbing the wild stack of cards in front of her and shuffling them.

"I'd rather not lose a month's wage having to pay them back for one night of games…" Armin replied, hoping it would be enough to stop their attempts at roping him in.

Svea didn't say anything for a moment, then showed a small smile — the first Armin had ever seen on her face. "Suppose you're smarter than Romi. She owes me in the hundreds, yet it never occurred to her to just stop challenging me to win it all back."

"Ah…" Armin weakly responded, feeling a pang of compassion for Romi. "I wouldn't want that to happen. Is it fine if we play recreationally?"

"Sure," Svea said. "If you have that little faith in your skills. Know that the offer stands when you've been here a couple months and nothing thrills you anymore."

Don't gamble against Svea, Armin added to his list of objectives. Should be easy, but Romi looked intelligent enough to not get caught into debts either, and yet here she was. Maybe there were some games that involved strategy that he could win through wit alone…

"Here." The redhead slid a mug of beer she'd just filled Armin's way. "'s more fun this way. Cheers!"

Might not be the best idea right now, so Armin put up his hands placatingly. "Oh, no thanks, I prefer tea."

"Ya don't prefer the tea here, kid. Drink it!"

"Oi, oi. What do you mean by that?" the older blond policeman spat out.

"I mean that the tea y'bring back from the city is cheap and tasteless, Fabian. Get better, no one's drinking it."

"Sorry, Fabi, gotta agree," Travis joined.

"I like it," Armin weakly chimed in, but he was overshadowed by Fabian's much louder indignant protesting.

"Get your own if it's so bad, I grew up on this tea and it's here to stay!"

Armin decided not to get involved in the spat that broke out about tea, pulling the mug he'd been offered closer and looking down into it to have something to do with his hands. The beer looked clean enough. The policemen had been drinking from the same cask, it was unlikely they'd spiked it to pull some mean-spirited prank on him. He lifted the mug and took a drink, finding the contents to his liking. So long as he didn't overdo it, he'd be fine.

Three cards landed in front of him, face-down. Armin went to pick them up, but Svea swatted his hand away. "No peeking." She recoiled her hand to resume distributing cards. "Walls, you really need to change your skincare routine," she muttered under her breath.

"They're scars, Svea… No amount of salves or oils will clear them," Armin placated, rubbing his fingers over his ridged skin.

"Not if you don't try harder," she said, distributing cards to herself, Travis, and the redhead, skipping over Fabian, who just sat back in his chair, a little out of it. "You played Nines before?"

"I have. Lowest sum out of all players wins, but you can't peek at your cards unless they've been turned over, right?"

"Highest."

She threw three more cards Armin's way, which he placed in a column before arranging the others in a column next to the first.

"We play with three decks. All nine cards remain face-down the entire game. You can grab a blind card from the draw deck or a visible card that someone left on the discard pile to replace one of your own cards with. Aces are worth fifteen, jokers twenty, jacks let you look at one of your own cards, queens let you check one of the other players' cards, and kings let you switch one of your cards with another player's blind. Knock on the table when you're done and one more round excluding the person who knocked will be played before everyone shows their hand. Rows or columns full of the same card count for double their sum, rows of nines for triple. Clear?"

She distributed the final three cards, then placed the deck in the middle and arranged her own cards into three columns.

"That's a bit different from how we used to play it, but it sounds simple enough. We played the version where you turn the cards you replace up and the game ends a round after one player has all cards facing up."

"Let's test how good your memory is when you can't see anything, then," Travis laughed, taking a drink from his mug as he smugly looked down upon his field.

"Oi, get started, you slow oaf," Svea said with an elbow jab into Travis' side.

He snickered at the impatience, paying her no mind as he pulled a card and looked at it, then got rid of it, revealing a four of clubs. The redhead drew a card as well, switching it with one of her cards, a three of hearts.

Armin's turn. He thought over what he'd just seen. There probably weren't that many good cards in the game yet, and it was hard to tell who had them. If he could get the luck to draw a king and switch someone's good card with one of his own cards, that would be excellent, but with only twelve kings in the game, he may not have that luck.

It's just a game, he reminded himself. No need to get himself frustrated about it when this was already ample distraction.

He drew a card, a jack of spades, and discarded it, carefully looking over which of his cards he should look at. Center usually was a good place to start. He reached for the card and flipped it over when out of sight of the other players, finding himself looking at the ace of spades. Jean had once explained one evening in the barracks that it was the embodiment of not just luck, but also beginnings and endings, be it literal or metaphorical. He had used cards plenty to divine their futures, even if little of it ever came to pass.

Armin did remember what some of the cards meant, and the ace of spades always stood out to him in its grim yet hopeful meaning. Today, it meant fifteen points in his favour. Certainly a card he'd want to hold onto, so with a neutral expression, he placed it back upside-down, wondering if his deck had something else to tell him were they in the trainee barracks right now during one of Jean's readings. Whether the policemen would find it asinine to even play such childish games involving street magic or if they'd enjoy it as well.

"Lucky to get a jack so early on," Svea commented as she drew another card. Her eyes widened at her draw, whistling. "Look here." She discarded a jack of hearts and took a look at one of her own cards, keeping her deadpan expression.

"Oi, oi, stop using up all the fun cards, Sve," Travis said as he drew a card and discarded one of his own cards, a ten of clubs. "Ah, shit."

Svea, Fabian, and the redhead chortled at that, Svea more derisively than her companions.

"Why, thank you, Trav, I will take that ten from you," the redhead jovially chanted as she grabbed the card and switched it out with one of hers, a king of clubs.

"Seriously?" Travis snarked, drawing a laugh out of Svea.

"Aw, looks like my luck ain't runnin' out either!" The redhead rubbed her hands together, looking over at her companions' fields. "Now, I ain't know much, but that there card looks particularly lucky," she said as her finger landed on the card in Armin's top right corner and she switched it with her middle card.

"Why that one?" Armin asked. She could've guessed what he'd seen with his jack, but he supposed that since he hadn't had the chance to keep it or discard it, she hadn't had the chance to see if it was a good card or a bad card.

The redhead leaned back, a clever smile accompanying her movement. "It just looked lucky," she said, winking and taking a swig from her mug. Whichever metric she'd used was unknown to him, being this early in the game, so it must've just been random. He hoped.

Armin's turn again. He took a drink from his own mug, pondering if he could use any strategy. All of the cards previously switched out could be assumed to be sevens or higher, otherwise it would be too much of a risk to discard something for them. He still remembered which of the cards each policeman had discarded, but he hadn't seen where the redhead placed her ten of clubs. If he ever got the option, he couldn't accurately steal. He'd have to guess or go elsewhere.

Better to just draw and see. Nothing on the discard pile was that great, anyway. He drew a seven of hearts and found that high enough to take the risk, switching it with his top middle card, a four of diamonds.

Svea discarded a three of clubs in her turn, and in Travis' turn, he drew a card before throwing it onto the discard pile with a grin. "Raining jacks today, and for once it went to the right guy," he said as he grabbed one of his cards. As he looked at it, his eyes widened slightly and that grin slimmed down before he changed to a full-on deadpan expression.

Good card, Armin speculated. Had to be. Too obvious, Travis, the point wasn't to change to a deadpan expression when drawing something good but to keep doing what he's doing. How hadn't he learned that after so long here?

Travis' eyes briefly flicked over to Armin, shiftily so, then over to the redhead. She drew a card, then discarded a five of clubs.

Back to Armin's turn. Still nothing in the discard pile that could be useful, and he didn't know if he could safely discard the card that the redhead had saddled him with earlier. It wasn't a card she'd looked at. For all she knew, she'd gotten rid of a good card.

He took a card from the draw pile and found a king of diamonds looking back at him. Eyes widening, he saw his chance for an upgrade. He discarded it and Travis rolled his eyes at him.

"Oh, of course you get the fun stealing card. Who you gonna rob, brat?"

Armin wasn't particularly happy with what was shaping up to be a new nickname but he didn't show it. He looked around the playing field. Svea had had the chance to look at one of her cards and hadn't discarded it yet. The redhead seemed to be operating on chance and wasn't applying a particular strategy. Travis had had the chance to look at one of his cards and had just given away how great of a card it was. The choice was obvious.

"You," Armin said as he scooted closer to take a good look at Travis' playing field.

"Me? Why me, I ain't got anything good," Travis protested.

"Really," Fabian supported the claim, having caught glimpses from his position hovering over Travis' shoulder and occasionally having stolen a card to look it over before returning it. "You're losing if you're going for his cards, he's really struggling here," he said, earning him a glance of indignation from Travis.

"That's fine by me. I'll just grab what I need and get going," Armin said, reaching over for the card in the middle that Travis had observed in the previous round. He looked up at Travis, who was now also looking down on Armin's hand, but instead of annoyance, there was a glimmer in Travis' eyes. For a second, Armin considered that it was fear of losing his winning card, but then, when his finger touched the card, his mouth's corner ever-so-slightly quirked up.

Armin was about to do something that pleased Travis. Was that change from his earlier smirk into a deadpan expression all an act, maybe?

"Well?" Travis impatiently asked when Armin took too long, expression back to his usual scowl.

Armin hummed. He looked down on the card again, considering whether Travis would be strategic enough to make a move like that. He could be. He had been playing this game for months, after all. He'd never win anything if he were this obvious, and the look he'd thrown Armin after making his move was rather suspicious. For all he knew, he was luring Armin into stealing a trash card.

Not today, Travis. Not if I can make an informed gamble.

"Actually, I'd like that one, please." Armin pointed at the card next to it, one he'd seen Travis grab from the draw pile earlier, and the policeman's eyes widened.

"Shit, really now?"

That settled it. "Yes, really."

"Why not the middle one?"

"I want the one on the side. I'm feeling lucky as well, I suppose. Right?" Armin smiled innocently at the redhead, who nodded back at him before he turned his eyes to Travis again.

Travis groaned, then handed Armin the card and accepted Armin's. With his brows furrowed, it looked like Armin had detected Travis' bluff perfectly. He placed down the card and looked down on his field, smiling under his increasing lightheadedness.

"Look at that, not quite as doe-eyed as I thought. I've seen good policemen fall for that one," Svea said as she drew a card. "Granted it still is a shitty strategy that shouldn't work on anyone with a functional brain."

"Can it already, Sve," Travis said, crossing his arms and looking up at the ceiling with a frown. "I'd like to see you pull it off instead of looking bored with yourself all day long."

Svea paid him no mind, switching out one of her cards for what she drew and discarding a six of clubs. Then, she knocked on the table, sitting back in her chair with crossed arms.

"Already?" Fabian asked, standing up when she nodded to stealthily come check all of her cards.

"One more round, then we turn over our cards. You've got one move left, don't fuck it all up in the last round."

Travis groaned, then drew a card and discarded the card Armin almost picked: three of hearts. He had bluffed, and Armin felt pretty good about himself to have called it, because the policeman averted his eyes after his turn.

The redhead did the same but drew nothing interesting, discarding a two of hearts. Armin was the last to play, and he mentally took inventory of what he had on his field. He had some pretty great numbers but also a couple of unknowns. Would he discard one of his mid numbers, or try his luck with his unknowns?

Might be better to just pick a card and hope that it wasn't that great. Picking from the draw pile, his eyes fell upon a ten of diamonds. Good draw, very few things could be better than that, and being the last player, he smiled broadly. He picked a card at random, the bottom right, and when he threw away the card, his heart sank as a joker landed on the discard pile.

The room erupted in laughter and oohing, except for Svea, who jumped forward. "Oi, you throwing out a joker like that when I can't even grab it from you? What're you wasting that for?" she shouted.

"I didn't know!" Armin placated, quite disappointed that he'd thrown away twenty points in exchange for ten. His luck just had to be against his favour like that.

"Oh, I hope you end up at the bottom," Svea growled as she sat down again and began turning over her cards.

The rest followed suit, as did Armin. He'd started out with a six of clubs, a five of spades, a five of diamonds, and an eight of hearts that he hadn't touched. On top of that, he had his ace of spades at the center, as well as his ten of diamonds he'd exchanged his joker for in the final round, the three of spades which the redhead had exchanged for his eight of clubs, the seven of hearts he'd drawn from the pile, and finally, the card he'd stolen from Travis: a nice ten of hearts.

"Well, I got a 56 thanks to the brat," Travis unceremoniously announced, gathering his cards onto a messy stack and throwing them onto the discard pile.

"74," Svea said, collecting her own deck. "I drew an ace and a ten and started out with another ace. Anyone above that?"

Armin calculated his final score in his head. "I've got 69."

"Oh! I win," the redhead exclaimed. "I had a full row of sevens, so that lands me at 82."

"Really now," Svea sighed, miffed at her loss. "That's a shame. Best out of three?"

"Don't get too cocky now, Sve. I'll wipe the floor with ya and y'know it!"

Armin had to admit, that game was pleasant and especially distracting. A great way to see these people in a new daylight after getting to see their worst.

The next rounds were decently fun and Armin was starting to loosen up, feeling the warmth of the alcohol flooding his system already and feeling invigorated to get to use his brain for something leisurely like this again. With how serious things had gotten after their first mission outside Wall Rose, the remaining 104th had less time to involve themselves in insignificant drama like this. It made him reminisce about those simpler training days, and the nostalgia did him good so long as his mind didn't wander to the many they had lost.

The other cardgames the policemen played were surprisingly sophisticated and it took him a few goes before he fully understood the rules or tactics of the ones he didn't know. Once he did, though, they were amusing enough. Armin raked in a few wins but most went to Svea, a few to the redhead (whom he found out during the night was called Leen and who also ended up winning her and Svea's little competition), and an odd couple to Fabian. Travis always either lagged behind, or came very close to a win before losing anyway, but he wasn't really bothering that much with how much he'd had to drink.

Armin spent his evening in the common room, observing his company's conversations and games while joining most of them. Hange had been right: they were much more pleasant people up here than they were down in the mines. Svea was the largest surprise. Armin wondered if the police left their power games below the surface on purpose, if they were just another way to pass the time down there when everyone was a bit crankier than when they got to see daylight.

By the end of their games, he knew a lot more about the policemen stationed at the mines, be they present in the common room or stationed somewhere else. Things he decided to hold onto in case they were useful for the future. How he'd been right in assessing that no one dared play against Svea when they bet money because she was scarily good at these games. How Romi's gambling debt had started near the beginning of their mission in Tourze and she hadn't paid Svea a single marc back, hoping every time that today would be the big day where she won it all back. How proud Travis was of his dexterity, despite his regular mishaps when taking care of his haircut. How two of the policemen posted around Tourze, Noëmie and Linus, had their daily spats, but everyone knew they were sleeping together despite their insistence that it was a rumour. How Meike kept hogging horse caretaking duties by carrying them out in the early hours when no one could be bothered to go outside, knowing it was a coveted job among the bored policemen.

Armin finished the evening with a whole list of names and events to remember just from their leisurely gossip, some less useful than others, but he decided against selecting just yet. He even got to hear a thing or two about Hange — things like their erratic sleeping habits and their mood swings, quirks Armin already noted during the time spent around them prior to their mission in Shiganshina but that caused the policemen great pleasure nonetheless.

He wasn't sure how exactly he'd ended up in bed again, but with his head this foggy and his spirit lifted, he stood a far better chance at sleeping undisturbed after his few hours of repose.