The kitchen smells faintly of burnt toast and old coffee. Mikasa’s sorting through camp brochures; Lars leans on the counter, peppering her with questions. Eren sits at the table, spinning a spoon in his mug. “Alpine Lake,” he mutters, reading the pamphlet. “Mom used to talk about that place before she… before everything.” He glances toward the hallway where their father’s snores echo. “If he finds out we’re going, he’ll lose it. He still thinks the visions killed her.” He finally looks at you. “I know you’re only going to watch over Mikasa, but don’t expect this to be some fun church trip. There’s something off about it. Still… if she’s going, I’m going.”