[ When his traveling companion slips away quietly into death, the clock on the tablet reads 8:44PM. He remains unshaken, acknowledging the fact that he’ll soon join her with grim acceptance. After years of expecting every day to be his last, he can hardly quail in the face of the end now. Instead, a humorless smile stiffens his countenance. Dozens of expeditions beyond the wall, he reflects, and this is how he’s to finally die. So be it—but he refuses to simply roll over and take it like some beaten mutt.

There’s little he can do for the woman. Carefully, he removes the muffler from her person and loops it around his neck, tucking it into his coat. It smells distinctly like her and he almost recoils, unsettled in spite of himself. Once he recovers, he performs an impersonal pat-down in search of anything he can use. If what they’ve been led to believe is true, he should be able to return her belongings in the morgue. Unfortunately, there’s nothing of note. He takes a moment to fold her hands over her chest, pauses to gaze at her in somber silence, and then he’s moving onward.

Levi trudges through the banking snowdrifts, sick with the knowledge that he never learned her name. They’d stumbled into each other by chance, she with an injury from a fall and he with no answers after hours of scouting. The choice had been obvious: Leave her behind, find shelter immediately. She was a liability, would only slow him down—in stopping to help her, he’d condemn them both to death. Yet Erwin hadn’t been present to make the call, to further harden the heart Levi had given up to a greater purpose a near decade ago. Levi had remained. Levi had helped. His only regret, he thinks, is that he could not get them to safety in time.

Aware that all buildings will already be on lockdown, he retrieves the tablet to send out a message. His screenname (the default “Levi” that inaction had forced the network to select) will accompany a brief audio transmission. ]

If you’re still outside, report in. I’ll meet up with you.

[ For all his lacking social graces, Levi would prefer not to greet death alone. ]

[ Should your character enter this particular house at this particular time, they will find a man taking a makeshift machete to the furniture rather aggressively. At first sight, his diminutive stature might fool a stranger into perceiving him as an adolescent. When he glances up to scrutinize your character, however, there is nothing suggesting youth in the flinty, hard pinch of his narrowed eyes. ]

Well? [ he demands sharply. A thunk as he cleaves a wooden couch leg in two. ] Either get in or get out, but shut the damn door.

[ Your character may notice that there is no firewood available. Clearly, he intends to make do with the furniture in lieu of proper kindling. Unfortunately, Levi’s recent death and subsequent personal loss has left him in a foul mood; since waking in the morgue, he’s been unable to recall Isabel and Farlan’s faces, or those of any from the original Special Ops Squad. Barely restrained cold fury rolls off him in waves—a palpable presence in the much too small building. The memories of his fallen comrades…for such a precious thing to be stolen from him, for their bequeathed resolve to be taken away…

Thunk.

Honestly, the raw elements outside may be more comfortable to bear at this point than sharing space with Levi. ]

( OOC | choose your own adventure! PM me if you'd like to plan or discuss anything! c: )