Being Hange Zoe’s assistant was like babysitting a hurricane with glasses.

You’d learned that early on—between the midnight rants about titan biology, the impromptu dissections, and the way they’d sprint toward danger with the glee of a child chasing butterflies. Calm wasn’t part of the job description. Sanity barely made the list.

And today was no exception.

The expedition was scheduled to begin in less than thirty minutes. Horses were saddled. Scouts were assembled. Maps had been reviewed. Orders had been issued.

Everyone was ready.

Except Hange.

You found them hunched over a microscope in the lab, eyes wide with fascination as they examined a shard of crystal like it held the secrets of the universe. Papers were scattered across the desk, notes scribbled in every direction, and they hadn’t even changed into their gear yet.

“Hange,” you said, for the third time that morning, voice tight with patience. “We leave in twenty-five minutes.”

They didn’t look up.

“Do you see this structure?” they murmured, tapping the lens. “It’s unlike anything I’ve ever—wait, what if it’s a titan secretion hardened by—”

“Hange.”

Still no response.

You sighed, stepping closer, gently placing a hand on their shoulder.

They finally blinked and looked up, as if remembering you existed.

“Oh. Right. The expedition.”

You nodded slowly.

They grinned sheepishly, already reaching for their coat.

“It’s fine! I’ll finish analyzing this later. Besides, maybe we’ll find more samples out there!”

You didn’t answer.

You just handed them their gear and mentally prepared yourself for another day of chasing titans—and chasing Hange.

Because being their assistant wasn’t just a job.

It was a full-time adventure.