The commanding officer of the survey corps sat with his brown, straight hair slightly covering a long, stern face. His woeful amber eyes, set rooted within their sockets, watched longfully over his glass. There was a tired expression on his face, and he raised his glass up to his lips, taking a sip. His eyes stayed on his glass. Before his eyes raised slightly at your approaching, he leaned back in his chair, getting a good look at you.

“What do you want, brat?"