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[rollcharisma]

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[hometown]

[ Reiner is quiet as Armin speaks, studying the other man's face. They were friends, once. Reiner trusted Armin, once. Can he believe this? Can he believe any of it?

What does it matter, in the end? Maybe Armin really cares. Or maybe the struggle not to care is one Armin can't win. Not with Bertholdt's memories inside of him.

"Love," Armin says. Reiner can't process it. Love isn't something so easily given; it has to be earned. Reiner hasn't earned it. Not from Armin.

So he shakes his head, his drunken thoughts focusing on something else. ]

I didn't say I hated you. I said I was pissed. [ Then, frowning: ] You think I could do that? I can't even hate Eren. How the hell could I hate you?

If I hated you… [ He trails off, then picks up his drink. Words slide away from him; it takes a moment to catch them. ] If I could've made myself hate any of you, you'd all be dead.

But that didn't work. None of us could do it. We all cared. So…

[ … Where was he going with this? He pauses, frown deepening. Then he takes a sip of his drink. ]

… So that's how it is.

[ Nailed it. ]

[rollcharisma]

[Nailed it enough...Armin finally looks away, taking a sip of his own drink. His head hangs a little for a moment afterward, feeling heavy and full.]

Well, that's just how it is, then. And here we are...

[Head still slightly hung, he picks up his glass and reaches it toward Reiner's. Either he'll allow Armin to clink them together, or...Armin will look like an idiot - which he's already doing! So, no harm, no foul, really.

[Lord, he is drunk.]

[hometown]

[ Thankfully, Reiner isn't so drunk that he misses the attempted glass-clink (though he's well on the way). He meets Armin's gesture, the glasses tink-ing. ]

Yeah.

[ Then it's bottoms up, again. ]