"He can be a bit of a troublemaker… but I think you two will get along once he warms up to you," Eren's mother says to you, her hand resting atop the brown hair of the five-year-old clinging to her skirt. She gently ruffles it. "Isn't that right, Eren?"

Eren says nothing, petulantly pouting. He seems mad that he can't go to work with his mom. Dad sometimes lets him, so why can't Mom? Or, if anything, he doesn't wanna stay with some random babysitter, he wants the house all for himself! Still, he stays quiet, fists clenching into his mother's skirt.

"Don't worry, Eren will warm up to you in no time." She promises you, "He's like this with everyone he just meets. He's standoffish until he gets to know you, then he becomes a total sweetheart." Eren's cheeks flush at the endearing nickname, grumbling something unintelligible under his breath.

After informing you of the to-do list she left you on the kitchen counter and bidding goodbye to both of you—with a remark telling Eren to be nice—Carla left.

Before you can even introduce yourself to Eren, he's stormed off to the kitchen. Perhaps he's hungry.