Requested by RedBloom. I hope you don't mind that I tweaked your request a little. Mostly, I just hope you like it.

Hanji was wiping down a table when a young man walked in. He paused at the sight of the mostly trashed place. "Ah, I—I thought this was a dance studio."

"It is." Hanji cocked her head as she examined the boy. "Doesn't look like one now. Weekends it becomes just a regular old bar." Hanji reached over the counter and grabbed a green flyer. "I'm Hanji, by the way. You looking for dancing lessons?" She handed him the thick sheet then gestured for him to sit down at the bar with her.

The boy smiled a little nervously as he took it, removing his jacket and placing it on the stool beside them before he sat down. "I'm Eren. My fiancé and I wanted to take dancing lessons for our wedding."

Hanji smiled. "A little young to be getting married, aren't you?"

There was a flush of color on his cheeks. "We've known each other since we were kids. She's a good dancer and I'm…I just want to impress her. For once."

"Ah, I see. I'd say if she agreed to marry you you've obviously left quite an impression on her already, haven't you?" She laughed a little to herself. She scooted closer suddenly, murmuring conspiratorially. "You see the bartender over there?"

Eren looked towards the other end of the bar. "Ah…yes, I do."

"His name is Levi."

They watched Levi for several moments. He was scratching at a dried piece of chewed gum on the counter irritably. He'd removed his black vest hours ago and only had his crisp white button shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His dark hair kept falling over his furrowed brow, his jaw clenched as he scrubbed.

"He's the dance instructor." Hanji informed him. "I like dancing but I don't have an ounce of rhythm. Levi's the professional."

"Oh…" Eren observed him for a few moments. "Is he…nice?"

Before Hanji could reply a straggling man walked into the bar a little woozily. He surveyed the mostly empty room. "You guys…" The drunk man struggled with his words. "Closed already?"

Levi arched a brow. "We closed a few minutes ago. Kindly see yourself out."

The drunk man, as most drunken men, didn't like being told to leave. "You're a bartender, aren't you?" He clumsily sat himself atop a stool, directly across from Levi. "I want a drink. Serve me."

"Oh dear," Hanji murmured.

Levi remained eerily silent as he observed the man for several, heart pounding moments. Slowly, he placed down his damp hand towel and walked around the bar. He stood directly behind him, and the man turned to face him with squinted eyes. "You want a go at me, you fucking midg—?"

"Levi," Hanji interrupted. "Let me handle—"

Levi suddenly kicked the stool out from underneath him, hard enough to send the man sprawling onto the ground. His head hit the counter on his way down, and before the man could recover Levi delivered another swift kick to the man's gut.

The man curled in on himself, groaning none too quietly.

Levi reached down and grabbed the back of the man's jacket—then proceeded to deftly drag his body out. "Consider yourself lucky they're witnesses."

"Wait," The man pleaded helplessly. "I think—I feel like—"

"Shut up. Your breath is nauseating."

"No, I—" The man suddenly contorted, pushing onto his hands and knees. There was a horrible wet gurgling sound—and he wretched onto the floor miserably. He kept coughing and gagging, the pool of yellow vomit spreading across the floor and over his arms and fingers.

"You've got to be fucking joking." Levi's lips thinned in disgust as he stood over him. "Filthy…" He grabbed his collar, kicking the door open as he bodily threw the man out into the street. "Pig." Levi slammed the door shut.

Oh well. "You may not think it at the moment but Levi is kind." Hanji murmured. She smiled reassuringly at Eren's look of disbelief and apprehension. "He's had a rough day. We had a very large scale event tonight and Levi isn't what you'd call a social butterfly."

Levi was scowling at the pool of bile on the ground.

"He won't…kick me, will he?"

Hanji giggled. "Only if you—"

"Oi," They both turned at Levi's call. His narrowed—and slightly frightening—gaze was on Eren. "We're closed. Out."

Eren wiped his damp palms on his shirt. "Well, you see, I didn't come for a drink. I came to ask—"

"I could care less." Levi bit out, grabbing a pair of rubber gloves. "Leave or I'll drag you out kicking and screaming."

Eren swallowed thickly. He turned to face Hanji. "Never mind. Thank you."

Hanji grabbed Eren's sleeve and shook her head, stopping his retreat. "He came to ask about the dancing lessons, Levi."

Levi stilled. He kept his gaze carefully averted as he pulled on the long, thick gloves. "I thought we'd all agreed that part of my job was over."

Hanji smiled. "I don't recall ever saying that." She faced Eren. "Swing by tomorrow. Around Seven, perhaps? Is that a good time?"

Eren blinked rapidly. "It doesn't look like he—I don't think that's a good idea. You see he seems rather violent and well Mika—"

"Be here tomorrow at seven." Levi grabbed a mop and bucket. "Don't be late."

Hanji laughed, clapping Eren on his back. "There you go. Tomorrow at seven o'clock. Make sure you wear appropriate shoes."

Eren stepped onto the sidewalk and surveyed the mostly desolate street. He was nervous about the dancing lessons but he was sure Mikasa would appreciate the gesture—wasn't their anniversary coming up? After all, how many times had they sat against the wall while everyone else had danced because he was so horrible at it? He'd seen the longing in her dark eyes, the way her pale fingers had clutched at her skirt discreetly.

And he'd dragged her down with him as usual.

How many times had people wondered why she'd ever given him a chance? How many times had people asked what the hell she saw in him? She was beautiful and intelligent and skilled and constantly protecting him, helping him in whatever he struggled with—and it made him all too painfully aware of his averageness. Sometimes he wondered if she'd agreed to marry him because she actually loved him or simply because she wasaccustomed to him.

But he really didn't want to think about those things.

He stepped out into the cold air and over the drunken man curled up on the street. It was cold, he thought and remembered that he'd left his jacket on the stool—when the man's arm suddenly shot out and grabbed Eren's boot.

"Hey, let go—"

"Eren?"

Eren paused. He peered down—and inhaled sharply. "Hannes?"

Hannes grinned a little sloppily. "You think you can…help an old man back to his place? I think I lost my keys."

Eren cursed under his breath and bent to help Hannes up. He looked frighteningly malnourished, gaunt, as if he'd aged a lifetime. No wonder he hadn't recognized him. "How long are you going to keep drinking, Hannes?" He felt the anger fill his chest as he helped him back to his own car. "One of these days you're going to get killed—and no one is going to give a damn because you look like some random homeless man."

Hannes smiled at Eren affectionately, his words slurred. "Nothing wrong with a drink every now and then."

Eren shook his head and pushed Hannes into the backseat of his car. He slid into the driver's seat and clicked on his seat belt. "You need to stop this Hannes." He glared at him through the rear view mirror.

"I know." Hannes sprawled across the back seat, covering his face with his filthy hands. "Eren, I know…"

Eren sighed. "I was supposed to go over to Mikasa's apartment but…" He turned the car on. "You can stay over at my place for tonight. You could use a shower and some food. I'll stay with you. We can talk about fixing you up."

Hannes smiled weakly. "Thanks, Eren. You're always trying to take care of me…you're just like Carla."

Eren swallowed past the ache in his throat. "Yeah."

The rest of the car drive was silent.

Hanji finished drying the last glass, humming along to the soft music she'd put on while they'd cleaned. She watched the young boy help the elderly, inebriated man to his car through the small window. "He's a good kid, isn't he Levi?"

Levi peeled off his gloves with a grimace. "He can keep coming around if he's going to pick trash off our sidewalk."

Hanji laughed a little. "You ready to go? I'll close up."

Levi shook his head. "I can't get back in my car like this. I need to shower first. Give me the keys. I'll close up."

Hanji tossed Levi the keys. "Remember to shut off all the lights. You know how Erwin gets when a light is left on. The electricity bills."

Levi nodded grimly. "Walk to your car. I'll watch you from here."

Hanji pulled on her coat. "How chivalrous of you." She teased. "Good night, Levi. Don't take a long shower or you'll get home nigh morning. Don't want anyone taking advantage of you."

Levi shooed her out the door. "The only people that take advantage of me are you and Erwin."

Hanji laughed as she walked into the parking lot. "That's true."

Mikasa sat on the edge of the bed in her scarlet dress, holding her scarf up over her mouth comfortingly as she murmured into her phone. "You haven't heard from him, then?"

"No." Sasha sounded apologetic. "He mentioned going to look for something after work but I didn't ask what since it looked as if he wanted it to be a surprise. Me and Connie were going to go after him but we went to go eat instead."

Mikasa pressed her lips together. "I'll try his cell phone again. Thank you, Sasha."

Before she could hang up Sasha spoke rapidly. "Mikasa—wait—you sound…" A pause. "You sound upset."

Mikasa shut her eyes, tightening her grip on her scarf. "I'm just worried. It's late and he isn't home yet…" She looked down at her pretty dress, her gold heels neatly strapped over her feet. She'd waited for him for hours. She'd planned this night for weeks.

"Mikasa…did Eren…did he forget your anniversary?" Sasha was perceptive, even over the phone.

She spoke a little brokenly. "I…believe so."

Sasha sighed. "I'm sorry. Connie and I will go look for him."

"No." She cleared her throat. "Thank you, Sasha. I'm going to bed. Good night."

"Mikasa—"

She hung up.

She held her cell phone between her cold hands and watched the bright screen darken after several moments. She'd taken painfully careful measures for this night. She'd felt a little insecure in the tight, revealing red dress—but she'd seen Eren stare at it for a little too long on the mannequin. She almost always wore business suits or jeans and t shirts—and she'd wanted to look different tonight. She'd wanted him to look at her.

The same way she'd seen him look at Annie.

Her hands had shook as she'd applied her eyeliner, as she'd painted her nails the same scarlet color as her dress. She'd fiddled with the pink glass of her strawberry scented perfume—a scent that Eren hated, but a perfume she loved.

She was Mikasa Ackerman. She was intelligent, skilled and composed. She was a level headed woman who'd intimidated people much more powerful than her.

But in front of Eren she was insecure. She was unsure. She couldn't put on makeup because he'd frown at it, had to be wary of her words so he wouldn't take offense. She had to switch her strawberry perfume for a lavender one.

She'd often wondered if he'd really loved her or if he'd simply grown accustomed to her protectiveness. She'd often thought he'd more seen her as a bit of a bothersome nuisance than anything.

But then he'd asked her to marry him.

And that must have meant he really did love her.

Didn't it?

She quickly dialed Eren's cell phone and pressed it to her ear hopefully.

It rang once.

I know he forgot our anniversary.

Twice. She grabbed her shimmery pink perfume bottle.

Perhaps something came up to keep him preoccupied.

Three times. She pushed off the cap.

What if something bad has happened to him and all I'm doing is sulking in a flimsy red dress?

He answered the phone. "You can pick up your dratted jacket and cell phone tomorrow."

Mikasa frowned at the foreign voice. "Eren?"

A pause. "I'm assuming you're one of his friends. He left his jacket at our bar. He's scheduled to come tomorrow for his dancing lesson so don't bother picking it up now. We're closed."

A bar? Dancing lesson?

"Do you know where he happened to go?"

The man spoke crisply, irritably. "I do not keep tabs on every boy that walks into this bar. I'd have gone half mad by now. I'm in the middle of a shower and I had to step out to stop the phone's infernal ringing. I'll have Hanji call you in the morning since she was the one he was speaking too. She'll know more. Now if you'd kindly stop calling the stupid boys phone and let me shower in peace, it'd be greatly appreciated. Goodnight."

The phone clicked loudly.

Mikasa dropped her hand into her lap, feeling sick to her stomach. Hanji? He was at a bar? Dancing lessons?

Mikasa inhaled slowly.

"...she was the one he was speaking too."

She. Eren had gone to a bar. Eren had gone to a bar and had been speaking to another woman—on their anniversary. It was perhaps ridiculous for her to be so insecure when he'd asked her to marry him but she'd always felt something missing between them. They got along easily enough but sometimes the romance felt forced.

Sometimes she wondered why he never looked at her the way he had looked at her.

She wondered why Eren and Annie had ever broken up. She wondered if maybe she'd been the second option.

Shakily, she stood, pulling on her thin sweater. She didn't bother changing—needed to get outside and not think.

She didn't want to think at all.

But she did anyway.

She dialed another number.

Her voice was muffled with sleep. "Mikasa?"

"Ymir…" Mikasa inhaled slowly. "Do you remember the dancing lessons you took with Krista all those years ago? Do you remember the address?"

She could hear some shuffling and a sleepy Krista ask who was calling at this time. "It's Mikasa. Go back to sleep." Ymir informed her, attempting to muffle the phone uselessly. "Do you remember that library we all went to when we needed to study?"

Mikasa remembered. "Yes."

"It's right across the street."

Which meant it was about three blocks away. "I remember now. Thank you."

"Is something going on?" Ymir asked gruffly.

"No. But thank you and I'm sorry for calling so late. Good night."

Ymir yawned. "Alright. 'Night."

Mikasa ended the call and slipped her phone into the pocket of her sweater. She knew she wouldn't be able to sleep.

She spritzed on her old perfume, inhaling the soft scent deeply. Older, happier memories flooded her, an aching wistfulness filling her.

She might as well go for a walk.

Levi rubbed the towel over his damp hair quickly. It was well into the early morning now—three a.m., he saw as he glanced at the clock in his office. As he dressed he could hear the music Hanji had left playing, wondered about the dancing lesson tomorrow.

How long had it been since he'd given anyone a lesson?

How long had it been since he'd danced at all?

He was just pulling on a dark gray t shirt when he heard someone fiddle with the radio, skipping several songs and then turning up the volume.

He felt his skin prickle in alarm, becoming dead silent as he grabbed the small pistol in his desk drawer. He'd forgotten to lock the door before he'd gotten into the shower. He wouldn't be surprised if some idiots had wandered in and drank a few bottles. It had happened on a few occasions.

He slinked down the hallway carefully, his boots light and silent as they moved across the floor.

He heard the clinking of a glass bottle.

He peered around the corner, holding the gun aloft—and paused when he saw the intruder.

It was a young woman in a stunning scarlet dress, her black hair shimmering as she spun across the floor. Since they'd pushed aside all the tables and chairs the floor was completely bare for her, the mirrors on the walls reflecting her graceful image multiple times.

He lowered the gun, clicking on the safety as he tucked it into the back of his jeans. It was a strange sight, seeing a beautiful woman in a lovely dress dance alone.

He wondered what the hell she was doing here at this time.

She paused suddenly as she caught her own gaze in the mirror, her pale fingers clutching at an ill-fitting scarf wrapped about her neck—and her expression looked empty and hollow.

Yes, she was lovely, Levi admitted—but she looked wretched. He'd seen that same look in his own eyes one too many times.

She looked away from her reflection as the music changed, her feet effortlessly carrying her across the floor as she continued dancing alone.

And it was strange—but the night had been a strange one—but he didn't like the thought of someone so young and so lovely feel that same desolation.

He was a man who'd been through unspeakable things. He was a man who'd had nearly everyone dear to him ripped away violently. He was irritable and reserved and a little foul mouthed, sometimes a little too angry. He'd danced a few times because he'd been effortlessly good at it and it was good money but it had always been an obligation.

How long had it been since Levi had danced for pleasure?

How long had it been since he'd held a woman in his arms and moved with her across the floor, synched with her movements, connected their bodies?

The strawberry colored dress fluttered as she twisted, exposing her pale thighs.

He forgot the questions as he moved towards her.

She hadn't been able to not think—had only thought more as she'd walked the mostly empty streets. She'd wondered about what he'd been thinking—knew she wasn't in his thoughts at all—and her brain had spun it's strings into knots and tangles until she'd found herself in front of the dance studio.

It was empty, obviously closed—but the lights were on, and she'd been able to hear the faint sound of music playing from outside the door. She touched the handle and had found it unlocked.

Was Eren perhaps still here?

She stepped into the warm studio and out of the cold night, observing the large room silently.

It was mostly just a large room with a polished wooden floor and mirrors for walls, a small bar pressed against the wall opposite from her.

"Hello?" She called quietly.

Nothing. Her heels clicked quietly as she made her way across the floor. She reached into her pocket and dialed Eren's phone—and it went straight to his voicemail.

She swallowed and put her phone down on the bar, neatly folding her sweater and placing it on the glossy counter. She reached over the counter and grabbed a bottle—some kind of wine, she observed carelessly—and she tilted it against her lips, drinking the bittersweet liquid deeply.

It was strawberry—strawberry wine.

Like her perfume.

She put the bottle back down with a clack—then eyed her reflection dully. Her makeup was still perfectly intact. The curl in her hair had fallen, the strands straight and fluid. The dress and shoes she'd wasted most of her check on were still snug over her body, and she looked prettier then she had ever cared to make herself—and she felt empty and ill and foolish.

Eren had forgotten their anniversary and had gone to a bar instead. He'd spoken to a woman at this very bar. Hanji.

She wondered if they'd danced.

He'd never wanted to dance with her.

She'd seen him dance once with Annie. He'd looked embarrassed and awkward and clumsy—but he'd looked happy.

She took another drink, swallowing several mouthfuls.

How long had it been since she'd danced with anyone? Her head spun pleasantly as she whirled across the floor, the alcohol beginning to creep in, muddling her thoughts.

She'd forgotten how it had felt to have someone dance with her.

She'd forgotten how it had felt to dance at all.

She was Mikasa Ackerman. She was always level headed and composed and collected. She was intimidating. She was skilled. A woman seen as untouchable.

But tonight she was just reckless enough to dance by herself in an empty bar, longing to be touched. Tonight she was just an insecure woman with a heart writing in insecurity and pain—a foolish girl in a scarlet dress. Tonight the scent of strawberries clung to her skin, and the taste lingered on her tongue.

Tonight she wouldn't think at all.

As Levi slunk closer he spotted the open wine bottle, saw the flush of the alcohol on her cheeks. Her eyes were shut as she danced, her breaths jagged—not from exertion, he knew, but from some jagged emotion tearing at her insides.

She danced well—not up to par with a professional like himself—but she danced well enough to keep him enthralled. Her movements were lithe, graceful, if a little reckless, her lush body temptingly wrapped in scarlet silk. The material was tight across her full breasts and hips—but the material flowed and fluttered about her pale thighs, her gold colored heels glittering in the low light.

The music spun faster and so did she until she lost her balance and stumbled over herself. Levi moved forward, catching her easily—felt her stiffen in his arms.

"Drinking and dancing often end with someone on the floor." He inhaled her sweet scent—strawberries, if he wasn't mistaken—and held her soft body within his arms for a moment too long before he straightened her.

She pushed away from him, crossing her arms over her chest, eyeing him warily. She was blushing, he noted with surprise.

He hadn't pinned her for the cautious type. Woman in skimpy red dresses who broke into bars weren't what he'd call wary.

He arched a brow. Just moments she'd been vulnerable and uninhibited, wanton and heated—and now she was visibly shutting herself away, all ice and wariness. "You're looking at me like that when you're the one who broke into my place."

Surprise flickered across her features briefly. "You…own this place?"

"If you want to get technical, no. A friend of mine does. If you want me to be honest then yes, I might as well have my named signed on the lease." He eyed her for a few moments. "What are you doing here, besides having a free drink?"

Her lips pressed together tightly as she spoke. For a split second it looked as if she'd been about to bite something out but she paused, a frown creasing her pale brow. "I…didn't want to think anymore."

He stayed tactfully silent.

The music continued to play rapidly about them.

She pulled up the scarf and held it pressed over her mouth, looking vulnerable yet withdrawn, small and almost childish.

She didn't want to think, he thought curiously. He knew what that felt like intimately, wretchedly too well. He held out his hand. "You dance well." He caught her large dark gaze. "So do I."

There was a brief moment where it seemed that she would refuse. He saw the way she shifted back ever so slightly, the way her eyes closed off—but then he saw her hesitate, her eyes tracing over his features. She seemed to see something he didn't quite understand, coming to a conclusion that was perhaps fueled by the wine swimming in her blood. Her eyes latched onto his mouth briefly, making the muscles in his body tighten, and then she looked back up.

She slipped her warm hand in his.

"Show me." She murmured softly.

He smiled darkly and pulled her closer, spinning her so that her back was pressed flush to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her when she stiffened in surprise. "Relax." He breathed the words against her skin. "Let me take control."

She softened against him, leaning her supple body against his. He positioned her arms correctly, framing her, sliding his hot palm down her arm, to her waist, settling it over her lower stomach possessively.

He glanced at her blushing expression in the mirror—and she broke her frame to readjust her slipping scarf.

Slightly irked, he grasped the red material about her neck and tugged it away—but she snatched his wrist, her nails biting into his skin.

"No." Her gaze was lowered, her voice cracking.

He arched a brow. "It's in the way." He tugged it off, exposing the pale column of her throat, revealing the thrashing pulse at the base, the elegant line of her collarbones. She seemed to struggle with herself as he threw it onto the counter—then slid his hand back over her flat stomach, letting his callused fingertips rasp over the cool silk.

He felt her shaky inhale and felt her abdomen shiver beneath his touch, saw the chills prickle across her skin, viciously pleased by her sensitivity.

He wanted to learn her slowly but the music was much too quick—but perhaps, Levi thought with uncharacteristic hopefulness, he could take his time discovering her later. Perhaps this could be more than just one night.

Perhaps he could have more for once in his life.

Their movements were a little jerky at first, then fluid, moving rapidly across the floor. He could feel his pulse speed up—not from exertion—but from the way she felt against him, the way her body easily moved with his.

Knew she'd move this easily when he had her beneath him.

The music reached its zenith and he spun her hard, tilting her backwards, bowing her over his arm—the movement took her by surprise and she instinctually tried to catch herself, her hands clutching at the front of his shirt, her leg hooking over his hip.

He held her steady beneath him, smiled at her a little arrogantly. "Did you think I'd let you fall?"

Her dark gaze flickered over his features again, almost wonderingly.

The song changed into a slower one, the beat steady, deep.

She looked at his mouth again.

And he wondered if her mouth would taste like the wine she'd drunk. He let his other hand slide across her stomach, dip into her waist and smooth over the flare of her wide hips. He slid it lower until his fingertips smoothed over the folds of her dress and onto the smooth skin of her pale thighs, hooking behind her knee and adjusting her grip around his waist.

She inhaled sharply, her petal pink lips parting.

But she didn't stiffen.

And she didn't move away.

He slid his hand back up to grasp at the inky, sleek strands of her hair, cupping the back of her skull. He angled her head beneath his, his mouth brushing over her bottom lip.

"Tell me your name." He breathed, smoothing his mouth over jaw.

Her voice was weak and thready. "Mikasa…"

He found the beating pulse at the base of her throat, breathed against it. "I'm Levi."

He moved back up and found her mouth parted for his, her hands slinking up to his hair. Her breath brushed against his mouth, the scent of strawberry wine filling his lungs as he moved to kiss her—when the sudden ring of a cell phone sounded shrilly.

The desire in her gaze was broken instantly.

Her hands tightened on the front of his shirt and pushed him away. He hesitated briefly but pulled her up back onto her feet, sent a black glare at her infernal cell phone. She answered it quickly and pressed it to her ear.

"Sasha?"

Levi lowered the music and tried to cool his blood. He'd let his passion get a little out of hand but he couldn't quite regret it. He would have had her if her bloody phone hadn't rung.

"Thank you. I'm on my way home…No, I just…went for a walk. I'm fine, Sasha. I'm not upset about it. Thank you. Good night."

Levi crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, watching her darkly as she ended the phone call.

She was silent, her gaze cast downwards as she rewrapped her scarf and pulled on her thin sweater. She rummaged through her small wallet and pulled out a few bills, holding them out towards him.

"For the wine." She explained quietly, still refusing to look at him.

He shook his head. "Keep it. No one asks for wine here, anyway. They were mostly for decoration."

Her brow furrowed but she placed the money back in her wallet nonetheless. "I need to go…"

He cocked his head, observing her, sensing her hesitance. "Do you?" She struggled with herself visibly. He reached out, tracing her jaw with his fingertips. "You could stay." He slid his thumb over her bottom lip. "I can clear your head." He promised darkly.

She shut her eyes and inhaled deeply. "I…I have a fiancé."

He went still. A fiancé. He let his hand fall away, crossing his arms again as he leaned against the wall once more. He raised his brows, a little surprised, a little stung. "Engaged, are you?" The words came out a little too harshly. "I couldn't tell by the way you were acting just now—drunk and dancing and wanton." I damn near kissed you.

She clenched her jaw. "It was just a dance."

He watched her closely. "It seems so."

She pressed her lips together. "Thank you…for…dancing with me." She pulled up that dratted scarf again. "Thank you for the wine."

She was about to leave when he gestured for her to wait. He walked over and grabbed the mostly finished bottle and handed it to her.

"Strawberry wine—you can take it." He flicked her hair away from her face carelessly. "You smell like strawberries." He smirked when she blushed again. "It suits you." He wondered if she tasted like them, too.

She nodded curtly as she gripped the bottle to her chest. "Thank you…Levi."

He liked the way his name sounded when she said it. It was too bad he wouldn't be hearing her say it again. Yes, the night was a strange one. He nodded and turned away, feigning nonchalance. "Good bye, Mikasa."

A/N-I hammered this out in a day. I ate strawberries the entire time.