Reiner stood in front of the tall mirror in his quarter, staring blankly at his own reflection.
He adjusted the high linen collar, smoothing down the front fabric with both hands for what felt like the fifth time in ten minutes. His eyes had faint, shadows beneath them, the clear result of tossing and turning on his bed until the sky outside his window had begun to bleed into a pale, watery gray.
Get a grip on yourself, Reiner, he told his reflection sternly, pointing a accusatory index finger at the glass. Just pull it together.
It was just another morning in the capital. Another day organizing schedules, making sure the tea was brewed at the precise temperature Cherion liked, and other things. Another day doing his job.
And, of course, another day working right alongside Ezek.
Reiner let out a long, pathetic groan, slumping forward until his forehead knocked softly against the mirror.
