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[The connection does not fully register to Aubrey (transformation of what, the thing or…? Her eyes on his hands is more incidental than anything), but it’s not like she hasn’t noticed his ritual un/clenching. So she nods.]
You can steal me one though.
Maybe from that rich asshole - what's his name? Dickhead?
Self-injury and intention trigger the transformation. What you saw was my Titan.
[He doesn't have the Founder's power here; no way to accomplish that without Zeke. Luckily, that didn't affect his ability to utilize the Attack and Warhammer Titans.]
[Self-injury.]
[Aubrey saw a lot, sees the blood dried on his hands (whose?), but that detail stands out like the red streaks down his eyes. Maybe they’ve faded by now. She hasn’t met his eyes since sitting up.]
Why. [That’s all, really.]
I was saving your life.
[As if to punctuate this, he lifts her shirt just slightly - just enough to expose the wound - and then, he starts wrapping the bandages gently around her torso, hands careful and precise.]
You should be thanking me.
[A retort rises and dies in her throat.]
[His voice, as expected—not gentle. His hands, the wrapping—]
Why.
[More insistent. She doesn’t move.]
[Finally, he pulls his hands away, begins putting things back into Grisha's bag. He doesn't look at her.]
I don't know.
My wishlist.
If it doesn't suck down gas like the world is ending, I'll be impressed.
[It’s a long silence.]
[Aubrey wants to be somewhere else. The bandaging, adjusting, binds her here.]
[She doesn’t respond. Just breathing. Eren’s. Hers.]
[“I don’t know.”
[What a joke.]
Does that scare you?
[She doesn’t look at him, either.]
Does it scare you?
[Very, very funny. Eren might catch a faint, quick expression cross Aubrey’s face; it’s not fear.]
I asked first.
[And if (and only if) he hesitates, or starts to deflect again:] Answer me.
You don't get to tell me what to do.
Am I afraid of you? Not by a long shot. I could tear you to pieces if I wanted to. I know you're well aware of that now.
[And yet he's still! Deflecting!]
[She meets his glare. No irritation; not amused.]
You won’t.
[How do you know what Kavinsky's grindr preferences sound like, Eren?]
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