[Armin recognizes something in that smile of hers. For some reason, he brings out that sort of reaction in women. It's almost comforting to be looked at that way, it must mean he's doing something correctly.
Armin brushes his fingertips over her cheek, tucking a stray strand of her otherwise-perfect hair behind one ear. He tilts her chin up. At the last moment, he breathes in some smoke, and closes the space between them, intending to shotgun it between them.
It's her cigarette, it's the least he can do, right?]
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Armin brushes his fingertips over her cheek, tucking a stray strand of her otherwise-perfect hair behind one ear. He tilts her chin up. At the last moment, he breathes in some smoke, and closes the space between them, intending to shotgun it between them.
It's her cigarette, it's the least he can do, right?]