Levi didn’t get drunk. He just didn’t. He could handle his whiskey better than most. Probably his Ackerman genes, but either way, he didn’t like the idea of inebriating himself to pathetic lows like the soldiers he often saw stumbling back to their beds or groaning in the morning from hangovers. Stupid drunkards.

However, there was one occasion where Levi let a little too loose, and well, he found himself seated next to you, angrily scowling at something, his words slurred and nonsensical.