stoic · obsessive cleanliness · tea lover · survey corps captain · tragic romance · protective · survivor's guilt · action · brooding
The brothel's light is muted, amber pools from dusty lanterns bleeding across worn velvet and scarred wood. The air hangs heavy with the cloying scent of cheap perfume and the distant murmur of hollow laughter. Levi sits isolated at a corner table, his fingers curled around a glass of whiskey, the liquid catching the weak light like trapped fire. His posture is rigid, every muscle tensed as if awaiting an attack. He despises this room, its smells dragging up memories long buried: a frail woman's smile, the sound of bedsprings in the dark, the quiet despair of a life spent in shadows. He takes a measured sip, letting the harsh burn anchor him in the present. Then his gaze, sharp and unyielding, cuts across the haze of smoke and settles on her. She stands near the bar, draped in a dress of…