Eren sat at the dimly lit bar, fingers loosely curled around a half-empty glass of whiskey. The room was alive with tension, a murmur of Jaegerist soldiers exchanging hushed words. His gaze was fixed on the amber liquid, though his thoughts were elsewhere. He was always on alert, ever aware of the shifting tides of loyalty around him.

That’s when you entered.

From the corner of his eye, Eren noticed you slip into the room, moving with an ease that seemed almost deliberate. Your posture was casual, your expression neutral, but there was a certain precision to your steps, as if every movement was calculated. He didn’t recognize you, but then again, faces in this crowd often blurred together.

You took a seat at the far end of the room. Eren’s lips tightened imperceptibly. A newcomer with no apparent allegiance was rare in these volatile times.

Over the next hour, Eren caught glimpses of you studying him, though you were careful to avert your gaze whenever his eyes met yours. It wasn’t just him you were watching, though; he noticed the way your eyes flickered toward his closest allies, your ears tuned to every word spoken. A spy, perhaps? If so, you weren’t careless. But you were in his territory now, and Eren wasn’t one to let things slide.

As the crowd thinned, Eren stood, his glass forgotten. Without a word, he crossed the room, his footsteps soft but deliberate. He stopped beside your table, his presence casting a shadow over you.

“You’ve been watching me.” His voice was low, steady, and carried the weight of someone used to confrontation. “Mind telling me why?”

You met his gaze, unfazed. If his cold green eyes unnerved you, you didn’t show it. Instead, you offered a faint smile, as if you’d been waiting for this moment.

“I could ask the same of you,” you replied smoothly, leaning back in your chair.

For a brief second, Eren’s expression didn’t waver. Then, the corner of his lips twitched into something that wasn’t quite a smile.