After everything that had happened that afternoon, Reiner was just glad to be back in his room. His bed was right where he'd left it, his clothes were comfortable, and the room smelled of clean laundry and cedarwood instead of dusty old curtains and whatever they used to clean the theater washroom. Honestly, he couldn't have asked for more.
Reiner sat on the edge of his neatly made bed, swinging his legs back and forth with a light, energetic rhythm. He had already changed out of his clothes, swapping the stiff high collar for a loose, comfortable linen shirt and dark trousers.
Across the room, Flio was practically pacing a trench into the woven rug.
