How Far He'll Go | Levi Ackerman x OC

Chapter 4 - Her Vice

The woman before me greeted me with such warmth and courtesy. It's honestly the last thing I had anticipated from her. It appears as if she doesn't even recognize me from our prior interaction considering the way she felt the need to do so. Unless this is how she treats all of her customers, I would render it strange. It wasn't that long ago, after all, that I ventured in here.

I take her hand, reluctantly, and return her greeting, to be polite, which causes her smile to grow. It's quite the inviting smile for the face of a business and it's understandable how the word would spread about such a place. It's almost refreshing to see such emotion in times as such.

"How can I help you this evening?" She saunters over to the counter to present herself as even more of a professional in her craft, but something about it seems off.

This woman is incredibly poised, which is quite the contrast from what I'd seen the last time around. This is most likely her professional persona because I don't buy for one second that this is what she's really like.

I lead myself over to the counter she has propped herself at and explain my reasons for returning.

"There are a few things I need. I'm sure you can guess what the more important one is," I begin.

She glances to the side as if to think about it for a moment before chuckling. Why is she chuckling?

"Am I supposed to know, Sir?" She grows serious once again.

She must truly have forgotten our last interaction. Her perplexed gaze signals her lack of a clue when it comes to who I am. She really doesn't recognize me.

"Do you remember who I am?" I decide to come right out and say it.

She's slightly taken aback by my question which, no doubt should have come out of my mouth, and I immediately realize that I may have been too overbearing with it. Her eyes scan me from head to toe and I shift uncomfortably at her action.

"Wow, bold much?" I mock.

"You're a captain of the Survey Corps, no? You'll have to forgive me if we've met before, sometimes my brain decides to check out," her eyes bulge and turn to the ground. "That's embarrassing."

The uniform.

She only recognizes the uniform. It's entirely possible she sees too many customers throughout the course of a week to remember.

"Never mind it, I'm here for Calendula. It ended up working after all and I was sent back to get another jar," I shut her down.

"Ah! Why didn't you just say so sooner?" she lights up at my request. "Just a moment and I'll find it. 

Before I can react, she's bounded the corner into her infamous back room. I sigh to myself. How repetitive this is becoming. 

Silence. What, no noise this time around? No crashing sounds of glass? Hopefully, she decided to clean up back there.

My eyes wander over to the merchandise lining the walls once again, debating on if I should even bother infringing on her work.

No. She's a shop owner. This is her job and I'll infringe all I want.

"Hey," I call out to her. "What type of tea is Ceylon?"

I'm forever curious about this specific jar that evidently keeps drawing my attention. Might as well find out.

She returns, as if on cue, holding a familiar green jar within her grasp, before placing it gently on the counter. The woman then makes her way over to my side to inspect the item I inquired about.