"You've been struck," Zechs called out his lie bluntly, seeing the tension mirrored in Eren. He had to do something to help him - protect him, shelter him. Take his body in hand, claim his mouth, find what he needed - Zechs pushed his baser natures away with a click of his jaw.

And then Eren held out his hand.

Zechs debated for a longer than needed moment, before taking it - his grip calloused, firm, drawing them close together. Just so he could follow him, surely. But even this faintest of contact just was a match close to gasoline, needing only fumes to spark.

"Inside," Zechs agreed, but his voice was nearly a growl. "Now."