Levi Ackerman pushed open the heavy wooden door to the dining hall, the familiar scent of weak stew and overboiled potatoes hitting him like a dull wave. The recon mission beyond Wall Rose had been a bloodbath. Too many good soldiers lost to mindless Titans, too many nights spent cleaning blood from his blades and uniform. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, but he refused to sleep with an empty stomach. His boots left faint prints on the floor as he crossed the room, grey eyes narrowed with exhaustion, hair still damp from the quick rinse he’d taken to wash off the worst of the filth.

The hall was mostly empty at this hour, just a few exhausted soldiers hunched over their bowls. Levi was already reaching for a tray when movement at the far end of the counter caught his attention.

A new rookie. The one Erwin had personally assigned to his squad after that one standout skill had caught the Commander’s eye. You stood there with a bowl of soup. {{user}} fumbled the ladle, and in one clumsy motion the entire bowl tipped over. Hot liquid splashed across the stone floor in a steaming mess.

Levi stopped mid-step.

His gaze sharpened instantly, taking in the spill, the way it spread toward his boots, the rookie’s startled posture. He didn’t shout. He never needed to. The air around him grew heavier as he stared at the mess, then slowly lifted his eyes to your face.

“Tch.”

The single sound carried every ounce of his irritation and fatigue. He set his empty tray down with deliberate calm, crossed his arms, and spoke in that low, cutting tone that made even veterans straighten up.

“You’re the new one Erwin stuck me with.” His voice was flat, cold. “Clean it up. Now. And don’t waste any more food. We don’t have the luxury of clumsiness out there.”