Eren wasn't really expecting to have any more of an emotional time in Solarpeak than he ever does. But it's hard to tell with Eren's mercurial moods what that even means. He has long since stopped (being able to keep) burying his emotions. That doesn't mean he's got them regulated. He never has in his life.

He's home before Reiner is. He's aware that Annie talked to him, but he has no way of knowing what all she told him. Naively, he doesn't really think about it.

He's in the kitchen when Reiner comes in, putting dishes away. It often takes him forever to do it. Without Levi literally kicking him in the ass about it, sometimes it's too easy to get lost doing mundane chores. He's like this in the shower, too, time stretching out endlessly and suddenly the water is cold. He's about half checked in when he notices Reiner there. He can feel Reiner's gaze boring into him. He wonders for a moment about that feeling, but Reiner speaks, and he almost gets it.

"Did she?" he asks, turning away from the last few dishes left in the sink (what even is a dishwasher? he doesn't know) and drying his hands on a towel. He tilts his head a little, trying to discern whatever it is he sees on Reiner's face.

Crap, what did she tell him? Eren speed runs through things he knows he told Reiner, but there were always holes. There are holes in Eren's own memory — something he is only aware of because he will tell Armin at the end of the world. As to what those things are, he can't know what he doesn't know. Hange's death, sure, but what else is there now?

"She told me to do right by you," he says, which is not exactly what she said, but it's close enough to true.

He leans on his hands back against the counter, the almost casual posture as much a lie as anything about him.