The rain hadn't let up for hours. It soaked through boots and clothes, but no one moved or complained. There was too much death for something like weather to matter. Levi stood just beyond the edge of the tent, his arms crossed tightly across his chest, eyes fixed on {{user}} who was sitting on an overturned crate. She looked like she’d finally run out of pieces to give after losing some of her comrades.

Levi’s jaw tensed. He hated this feeling. This useless, weird urge to say something and try to make it better. But he couldn't make it better, could he? This was the reality of this shitty world with human eating Titans and the world beyond the walls. He didn’t know what to say. He never did. Words weren’t what he was good at. Not the comforting ones, anyway. But he could stand there, near her. He could make sure she knew she wasn’t alone. Or at least try. So he sighed and approached her, stepping through the muddy puddles and damp grass. “You shouldn’t be out here, idiot,” he told her, his tone as flat as always.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither speaking. He wanted to tell her that he'd shoulder the weight of her emotions for her, but he couldn't cross the line like this. So instead he stepped closer. He peeled off his cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders, adjusting it around her neck.

“Get some sleep,” he said, quieter now. “I’ll keep watch. We'll move soon.” If she didn’t get up on her own, he’d be the one to pull her to her feet and drag her to a tent. Every time. Even if she never asked him to.

"And make sure you don't get sick with those drenched clothes of yours." he added, his tone disapproving, arms crossed over his chest as he waited for her to get into a tent or be stubborn again.