"Why do you smell like cheap smokes?" Jean's inquiry pierced the quiet as soon as she returned from Zeke's for the night. The unexpected question caught her off guard. Despite her brief visit to Zeke's temporary residence, she hadn't anticipated staying out until the late hours of the night, lost in contemplation amidst her usual pastime of drunk people watching. The fact that anyone was awake at this late hour took her by surprise.
Upon her arrival at their modest base of operations, nestled on the outskirts of the innermost walls while they awaited Hange and Levi's trial, he promptly posed his question. The building, once a hub for the retired Military Police's regulatory affairs, or so they claimed, now served as their sanctuary in their time of waiting.
Seated in the lobby's center, near a table to the far right, he presented a formidable figure, his arms and legs crossed, clad in a sleek gray suit that exuded a modern sensibility, illuminated by candles scattered across the area. This air of authority was a facade he meticulously maintained, especially when he sensed mischief afoot from Lif.
Then again, Jean possessed a keen intuition for discerning mischief. When they were initially assigned to Levi's squad, he assumed the responsibility of curbing her penchant for disruptive pranks, which she had frequently indulged in during their time in the Trainee Corps. The repercussions were felt by all whenever her antics succeeded.
Amplifying further when it fell upon Levi to administer the consequences.
For some inexplicable reason, Jean possessed an uncanny ability to detect whenever she was up to said mischief. She remained mystified by his intuition, yet he unfailingly appeared, probing her with questions upon her return from any escapade.
Lif had no desire to confront Jean at the moment. After her encounter with Floch upon leaving Zeke's quarters, she had reached her limit for confrontations that day.
"Even drunks enjoy a smoke," she replied nonchalantly, closing the door to their temporary sanctuary behind her, being careful to lock it. Jean understood her penchant for certain pastimes all too well, and her statement wasn't entirely untrue.
"Since when do you cozy up to the local drunks? Last I knew, you made a point to steer clear of their grasping hands." His stern gaze bore into hers, leaving her in no doubt that he was onto something. Indeed, it was a topic they had delved into years ago when he had trailed her one day. She had shared an unsettling encounter of the local inebriates attempting to encroach upon her space while she did her observations up close. Since then, she had maintained her stance of derision from afar.
"I decided to take my chances and get close and personal. I am a big girl now and can take care of myself."
"A big girl, huh?" He made a point to look her up and down, but not in a suggestive way. Given her petite stature, it was a curious remark. If it weren't for their strikingly different hair colors, standing alongside Historia, they'd be nearly indistinguishable from behind.
He was being deliberately sexist toward her. He knew her capabilities, and even though she might not be able to overpower a man twice her size for obvious reasons, she was quick and resourceful, something he knew all too well. Over time, it evolved into a playful banter between them, stemming from their shared experiences in the Training Corps.
"You wanna test how much of a big girl I am?" She'd meant it to sound suggestive, but Jean knew what she meant. He merely scowled in response.
"Yeah, no. Not interested. I'd rather not have to justify another black eye to the board." She smirked at that.
"It was such a pretty black eye, too."
"Stop changing the subject. Why do you smell like cheap cigarettes? Where were you tonight? Someone like you doesn't just come home late wearing that," he pointedly looked at her retired black Survey Corps attire, "and looking guilty as hell."
She marched over to where Jean sat, crossing her arms and leaning heavily on one hip. "If you must know, Dad," his eyes crinkled at the sides as they narrowed in on her, "I was out getting hot and steamy with an old acquaintance of ours. Satisfied?"
Again, not a complete fabrication; the steamy part didn't happen, after all.
A hint of color rose to his cheeks, and he scratched at his chin in irritation while looking away with unease shining in his eyes. "Look, what you do with your own free time is up to you. I'm not trying to father your every move. But given your track record, don't blame me for suspecting otherwise. I'd rather not deal with another one of your messes."
She exhaled sharply, her hands rising in exasperation while she delivered a heavy eye roll in his direction. "It's been years since I've done anything to warrant a clean up! Besides," she crossed her arms once more, shifting her weight to her other hip, "I'm two years your senior. You don't need to babysit my every move."
"Maybe if you acted your age, I wouldn't have to!" His voice carried a hint of frustration before he softened his tone. "All I'm asking is for you to let us know when you're stepping out, whenever the urge hits you, whatever that urge may be. Instead of slipping away unnoticed, looking suspicious as hell."
"I apologize if I'm not inclined to air my dirty laundry to the whole squad. Why don't you do us both a favor and stop trying to dictate my every move as if you have the right to do so?" With graceful steps, she circled his chair, signaling her readiness to retire for the night. Pausing a few paces behind him, positioned between his chair and the hallway leading to the facility's rear rooms, she added, "I'm not a prisoner."
"You know damn well that isn't-"
"What's going on in here?" came a drowsy voice from the darkness of the hallway in front of Lif.
Sasha emerged in a long white nightgown, rubbing her left eye and releasing a hearty yawn. "You guys are so loud. Did something happen?" Sasha looked to Lif, letting out another yawn, her hand reaching up to further ruffle her long, dark brown, sleep-laden hair that was currently matted into a side bun. "You're back. Did'ja bring us back some meat?"
A moment of guilt washed over Lif as she recalled the events on the airship. During the rescue mission for Zeke and Eren back in Marley, a Marleyan girl named Gabi infiltrated their airship and shot at Sasha. Despite Lif's attempt to shield Sasha from harm by pushing her out of the way, the bullet found its mark, striking Sasha in the hip. Every day, Lif wondered if refraining from pushing Sasha would have caused the bullet to miss. While not as debilitating as a leg wound when considering her new stride, her limp remained a constant reminder of Lif's failed attempt to protect her friend.
"Sorry, Sasha," Lif began as she approached the sleepy girl. "Didn't mean to wake you."
Lif ushered her back along the dimly lit corridor. However, before vanishing into the shadows, Jean's voice echoed, "This discussion isn't over yet!"
"It most certainly is," Lif murmured under her breath, without bothering to glance back at him.
"Are you two fighting again?" Sasha asked, tilting her head next to Lif's.
"Nah, just talking."
"Whatever you say." Sasha released another yawn, considerably louder than the previous two. "But seriously, where's the meat?"
Lif chuckled.
Lif sensed Jean's accusatory stare from across their group as they made their way to the courthouse.
In the days preceding the trial, Lif skillfully sidestepped Jean's relentless questioning about her late-night whereabouts, much to his evident frustration. It wasn't her fault that he invariably stumbled upon her esc-exiting through a window of a room he tried to corner her in. Nor was it her doing when she disappeared down obscure alleys upon noticing him tailing her into town. And it certainly wasn't her intention to overindulge in the cellar's liquor, rendering her too intoxicated to articulate a coherent thought.
"Where's Armin when you need him?" Connie remarked beside Lif as they slowly meandered they're way up the flight of stairs to the courthouse. Lif noted how sharp Connie looked in his navy blue new-age suit complemented by a white undershirt and a coordinating navy blue tie.
"Yeah, he'd know what we need to do," Sasha concurred to Lif's right side, attired in a similar fashion, much like herself, albeit with a long skirt instead of pants.
"Enough, guys. You know Armin would be here if he could, but he's tied up with Historia, hashing out peace negotiations with the outside world," Jean interjected next to Sasha, his typical tone of annoyance coming through. "That job just doesn't stop because of a trial."
"Yeah, but Hange and Levi could die today! Wouldn't that demand Armin's attention?" Connie retorted, pivoting to face Jean, whose gaze remained fixed on Lif with growing irritation. "And why the hell do you keep glaring at Lif? Don't tell me you two are fighting again? I mean, seriously, how old are you two?"
"That's what I said," Sasha added.
They halted at the staircase landing facing the wide-open doors of the courthouse, and Jean's gaze, still tinged with irritation, finally fixated on Connie. "Why don't you ask her! She's the one who is hiding something and won't tell me what the hell she did!" His glare intensified as he focused on her once more, his anger escalating. "You've been awfully quiet. Have any unexpected revelations prepared for this upcoming trial?" Then, he jabbed an accusatory finger in her direction. "And don't you dare act like you hadn't planned something to go down! I haven't been wrong before, and I know I'm not wrong now!"
"Ah, shit, Lif! Really? What the hell did you do now?" Connie added, aligning himself with Jean as they both cast a frustrated gaze down at her.
Her lip curled in annoyance. "Why does everyone think I did something terrible?"
"Because when you do something," Connie yelled, "shit hits the ceiling, that's why!"
"Come on, not every time," Sasha intervened, coming to Lif's defense. Lif flashed her a grateful smile. "Sometimes things turn out for the best."
"Such as?" Jean inquired skeptically.
Sasha paused, blinking, before lifting her gaze, delving into her memories. "There must be something," she mused inwardly.
"See!" Coonie exclaimed.
"Remarkable. Transformed into the adversary. Despite enduring countless battles together, this is how I'm treated?" Lif quipped facetiously.
"Enough with the theatrics; just give us a straight answer," Jean asserted. "Share what you've done so we can be prepared and offer our support."
Lif glanced at Jean, her eyes widening imperceptibly. They stared at one another, Jean's eyes imploring, and Lif's matching with uncertainty.
"I..." Lif began, hesitated, then finally uttered, "can't."
Jean's hands shot up into the air, displaying his complete exasperation, his face twisting ugly. "Oh, come on, Lif!"
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Lif turned along with her group at the sound of the new voice, but her response to seeing Zeke standing within the open doors of the courthouse differed from that of her comrades.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Jean demanded, his tone laced with menace.
Zeke stood tall, clad in attire that bore a striking resemblance to the Marleyan military formal wear: a beige trench coat, with his hands tucked casually into the pockets, layered over a crisp white button-up shirt, sans tie. His black pants deviated from the standard Marleyan uniform, paired with sturdy combat boots that ascended halfway up his calves.
Reminiscent of the night she visited him…
"Playing the hero, apparently," Zeke retorted, his gaze sharp as he met Lif's. Yet, his stare lingered, his features devoid of emotion, leaving his intentions unclear.
Wasn't Lif supposed to meet him after the trial? What was he doing here instead?
"Yeah right. After everything you've done? Give me a break." Jean eyes flicked to Lif's again, catching on to Zeke's strange stare, yet he refrained from remarking on it, much to Lif's relief.
Lif hesitated, feeling the need to delay crossing that bridge for a little while longer. She sought to steel herself mentally for the impending confrontation. She could already anticipate the barrage of accusations that would come their way once they witnessed her departing with Zeke.
"Why the hell are you looking at Lif like that?" Connie's voice cut through, shattering Lif's previous relief. His tone carried a deadly edge.
Her head snapped towards Connie, a glare fixed on her face.
"Perhaps I simply can't help but admire her beauty," Zeke's response came, prompting Lif to whip her head back towards him, her eyes widening in alarm.
He was obviously egging them on, and Jean and Connie took the bait hook, line, and sinker, positioning themselves between her and Zeke as if to shield her. Lif couldn't help but roll her eyes at the impending pissing match.
"And what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jean inquired, his tone mirroring Connie's earlier sharpness.
"I wasn't aware I was conversing with someone lacking in comprehension skills. I believe my statement was clear enough," came the retort.
Sasha's hand suddenly came up to Lif's shoulder, and she gently squeezed it while leaning in. "Please tell me you didn't go to him?" she whispered into her ear.
The night Lif left for Zeke, Sasha had inquired after her as she departed their shared room, dressed in her retired black Survey Corps gear. Lif had been nonchalant in her reply, but she did share a partial truth with Sasha before leaving—that she was going to attempt to assist with Hange's and Levi's trial and advised Sasha not to wait up for her. Lif didn't know why she divulged as much to Sasha; perhaps it was residual guilt.
Lif looked at Sasha, remorse resonating in her eyes.
"What did you do, Lif?" Sasha asked the question loud enough for everyone to hear.
That question was starting to echo like a broken record stuck on repeat.
Jean and Connie turned to look behind them, both sets of startled eyes fixing on Lif, while another pair of amused eyes joined them.
"It…doesn't concern anyone else but me, so please, don't worry." She tried to placate, but when a certain set of startled eyes shifted to anger, she knew she failed. But she should have suspected as much. This was simply Jean's modus operandi, after all.
"Like hell it doesn't concern us! I'm fed up with people I care about keeping us in the dark!" That remark pierced her like a knife, but Jean wasn't done yet. "Have you ever thought about the fact that we're more than just a convenience to you? That you can count on us for anything, no matter how difficult you think it might be? We've been through so much together that whatever you have in mind, we can assist in our own way!"
Behind the intensity of his glare, she discerned the pain hidden within his eyes, realizing his words weren't solely aimed at her.
Uncertain of how to react, she acknowledged his accuracy. Her tendency to act impulsively, without thorough consideration, was undeniable.
Like a cornered snake, striking out without forethought.
"As enjoyable as this little intervention has been, I'm afraid our time is running short," Zeke interjected, prompting all four of them to turn their attention towards him. "I didn't come here for a social visit before the trial. There's a specific reason why I'm here."
"Well, spit it out already," Sasha urged impatiently.
"There's been a change of plans," Zeke announced, his gaze returning to Lif, a conspicuous detail noted by all present.
"Stop with the vagueness and get on with it!" Juan demanded.
"I'm getting there, but as I mentioned, time is of the essence," he replied, turning away and striding down the hall. "If you follow me, you'll see for yourself. Or don't. I don't really care what you do, just keep the ruckus at bay, will ya? This isn't the place for that."
The four exchanged glances, their expressions laden with displeasure directed particularly at Lif, who remained silent because she too was unsure of what Zeke meant. With reluctance, they all followed Zeke into the town hall, bracing themselves for the unknown that lay ahead, feeling the weight of their knives pressing heavily against their sides.