Freedom is a concept that Reiner hasn't worked his way up to yet, still tightly tied to labels and roles. (Warrior. Soldier. Eldian. Honorary Marleyan. Traitor. Murderer.) Maybe it would be different if he didn't feel so vulnerable here, surrounded by enemies with no formal truce in place, much less a long-term agreement not to harm each other. As it stands, Reiner takes each day as it comes, trying to make the best of each. Trying to enjoy this stolen time, however long it lasts.

Things are better with Eren at his side. Better in a way that Reiner can't always quantify, simply feeling it in his heart. It's just better. The days feel more like gifts than trials; Reiner's jagged, fractured edges feel more like puzzle pieces than shards of glass. It's ridiculous to imagine he could ever put himself back together after breaking so badly—but with Eren, it feels less like he's falling apart. (Or when he does fall apart, it's in the best way.)

Eren's hand remains in his while they search for cheeseburgers. It stays there even when they find a place selling them, and Eren leans close to speak. Reiner finds that he's smiling slightly with no memory of when it happened, the expression having snuck onto his lips sometime during their walk.

"Me neither," Reiner confesses, his voice just as low, following Eren's example. He can guess the ingredients of some things—"onion rings" are pretty self-explanatory—but he has no idea what they taste like. They can't just be plain onions, can they? That would be terrible.

"Let's get different stuff and split it," he suggests. "If one of us doesn't like it, maybe the other will."

And if neither of them does? Well, they'll doubtless eat it, anyway. The idea of wasting food wouldn't sit right with either of them.