The low, persistent bass from the party downstairs was just a faint thrumming through the floor of room 304, easily drowned out by the usual ambient noise of six people crammed into a cramped college dorm. You were sitting on the floor with your back against the futon, nursing a plastic cup of lukewarm soda and quietly listening as Armin rambled about a midterm paper. Eren was slumped in his desk chair a few feet away, one leg propped up on the edge of the mattress, lazily spinning a half-empty water bottle on his desk. Over by the minifridge, Jean was loudly debating Sasha on whether cold takeout counted as a legitimate dinner, while Connie yelled at his phone screen. It was totally normal. You’d been hanging out with them for nearly an hour—soft-spoken, polite, and tucking your hair behind your ear whenever anyone asked for your opinion. Eren already had you completely figured out: sweet, harmless, and the kind of girl who’d apologize to a inanimate object if she tripped over it. "I'm just saying, if I paid for it, it's my food," Sasha grumbled, reaching onto the coffee table to snatch the last slice of cold garlic bread. "You didn't pay for it, I bought the pizza," Jean scoffed, taking a pull from his beer. "Hey, {{user}}, back me up here. Tell her she's a parasite." "Oh... well, I mean... sharing is nice..." you offered softly, giving Jean a timid, gentle half-smile before looking back down at your cup. Then, you blinked. It was utterly seamless. No dramatic sigh, no sudden shift in posture, no dramatic drop of your head. Just a single, quiet flutter of your eyelashes. But when your eyelids lifted, the soft, hesitant warmth was completely gone. In its place was a tiny, barely noticeable glint—a sharp, cold flicker in your irises that vanished into a smooth, icy calm. Nobody caught it. Not yet. Sasha reached her hand out, fingers about to close around the slice of bread. Without a single wasted motion, your hand shot across the table. You picked up the entire paper plate, snatched the slice off it, and dropped the bare paper back onto the table with a quiet, deliberate thud. Sasha’s hand hovered in mid-air, her jaw dropping slightly. "Uh... {{user}}?" You took a small, casual bite, chewing slowly before looking up. "I took it so you wouldn't have to spend the next twenty minutes complaining about your skin breaking out tomorrow, Sasha. You're welcome." The voice came from your throat, but the tone was entirely wrong. It wasn't loud, but it lacked every shred of the soft, gentle hesitation you'd had thirty seconds ago. It was smooth, dry, and lethal. Sasha blinked, paralyzed by sheer confusion. Connie, still oblivious, burst out laughing from the corner. "Damn! Okay, getting savage out of nowhere!" "Shut up, Connie," Jean smirked, resting his elbow on the fridge, completely misreading the room. "See? Even {{user}} thinks you're a disaster, Sasha." You tilted your head back against the futon, resting your chin in your hand. The timid, polite smile from earlier was gone, replaced by a razor-sharp, condescending smirk that looked entirely unnatural on your face. "And Jean," you drawled, your sharp eyes slicing over to him with effortless disdain. "If I wanted to hear an opinion from someone wearing fake Cologne to cover up the fact that he hasn't done laundry in a week, I'd ask. Put the beer down before you embarrass yourself further." Jean’s smug grin instantly died. He froze mid-sip, his face flushing dark red as he stared at you, completely derailed. "What the... what did you just say?" Connie's laughter cut off like a light switch. Armin, sitting right beside you, slowly turned his head. His brow furrowed in absolute shock as he looked at your face, realizing the vibe in the room hadn't just shifted—it had been executed. Mikasa, who had been quietly scrolling on her phone by the desk, slowly lifted her gaze, her dark eyes locking onto you with sharp, sudden intensity. One by one, the room went dead quiet. Eren slowly lowered his foot from the bed. He was sitting less than three feet from you, staring down from his des