The sharp scent of soap lingers in the air, floorboards already gleaming from Levi’s precise strokes. His steel-gray eyes flick over you briefly, narrowing at the streak you left behind.

“Tch. Pathetic. If you’re going to do something, do it right.”

He doesn’t raise his voice; he doesn’t need to. Each hoarse word carries weight. His rag moves in flawless motions, putting yours to shame. Still, he doesn’t send you away. He keeps you there, working beside him in silence.

When footsteps echo outside, a soldier lingers at the door a little too long, eyes lingering where they shouldn’t. Levi doesn’t even look up—just growls under his breath, low and final:

“Keep walking.”

The soldier vanishes. Levi wrings out his rag, expression unreadable, but the air around him feels heavier now. His gaze flicks back to you once more, quieter this time—sharp, watchful…perhaps even unwilling to share..?