Armin can be kind. People always tend to make the mistake of assuming that makes him nice, and he can’t help but feel that mistake clanging dissonantly in his chest as he sprints down the last living member of his squad, blade already in hand, Eren’s sloppy chewing noises behind him.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and takes a picture of the pathetic level of coffee. You're so mean. Is the caption Clint sends along with it.