[ As soon as he sees that glare, Reiner instantly snatches his hand away. He's not stupid enough to touch a woman looking at him like that, even if he did bump into her. He's about to apologize again—for the bump, for the first (apparently inadequate) apology, for his face, maybe even for his existence—when the stranger speaks.
And then he realizes this isn't a stranger at all.
Reiner stares, eyes wide, utter incomprehension etched onto his features. He knows who Mikasa is. He remembers her, of course, tailing her in their class rankings by only one spot. She was always at Eren or Armin's side, an oft-quiet shadow who could easily outshine everyone if she chose; a lot like Bertolt, in some ways. But the thought of Mikasa in relation to Bertolt only brings back Reiner's last clear memory of her:
"Bertolt," she'd said, perched on the Armored's shoulder, Reiner's hands the only thing protecting his best friend from her blades. "Give Eren back."
That Mikasa looked so different from the one standing before him. She was a product of loss and hardship, just like the rest of the people of Paradis. (Just like all Eldians.) This Mikasa is older, like so many almost-familiar faces, and she looks like she's actually known happiness. Like she's had time to experience life outside of those Walls.
Not that Mikasa looks happy right now. Quite the fucking opposite.
Reiner has his knife in his boot. No way he'd reach it in time, though. Why didn't he wear it on his belt? He's got his teeth; he can bite his hand, hope to transfer his consciousness into his body if he's not quite quick enough—
… But he's trying not to fight, isn't he? For Gabi, he's trying not to fight. He's trying not to start anything with his enemies. He's trying to keep Gabi safe.
Reiner takes a step back. Hands at his sides, slightly raised, almost as though he's trying to show that he's unarmed or trying to soothe an animal. ]
Sorry, [ he repeats, for want of anything better to say.
Pointless to apologize, really. He's done too much harm that he can never apologize for. ]
no subject
And then he realizes this isn't a stranger at all.
Reiner stares, eyes wide, utter incomprehension etched onto his features. He knows who Mikasa is. He remembers her, of course, tailing her in their class rankings by only one spot. She was always at Eren or Armin's side, an oft-quiet shadow who could easily outshine everyone if she chose; a lot like Bertolt, in some ways. But the thought of Mikasa in relation to Bertolt only brings back Reiner's last clear memory of her:
"Bertolt," she'd said, perched on the Armored's shoulder, Reiner's hands the only thing protecting his best friend from her blades. "Give Eren back."
That Mikasa looked so different from the one standing before him. She was a product of loss and hardship, just like the rest of the people of Paradis. (Just like all Eldians.) This Mikasa is older, like so many almost-familiar faces, and she looks like she's actually known happiness. Like she's had time to experience life outside of those Walls.
Not that Mikasa looks happy right now. Quite the fucking opposite.
Reiner has his knife in his boot. No way he'd reach it in time, though. Why didn't he wear it on his belt? He's got his teeth; he can bite his hand, hope to transfer his consciousness into his body if he's not quite quick enough—
… But he's trying not to fight, isn't he? For Gabi, he's trying not to fight. He's trying not to start anything with his enemies. He's trying to keep Gabi safe.
Reiner takes a step back. Hands at his sides, slightly raised, almost as though he's trying to show that he's unarmed or trying to soothe an animal. ]
Sorry, [ he repeats, for want of anything better to say.
Pointless to apologize, really. He's done too much harm that he can never apologize for. ]