Levi Ackermann ⛓️?

You’ve seen him every morning for weeks. He doesn't wear a badge or a uniform, but the way he walks... shoulders back, eyes scanning the shadows like he’s expecting a monster to climb out of the gutter, it all screams military. The only indicator of his past is the faded green coat he would wear in winter, with a pale, circular discoloration on the back where a patch used to be. ​He’s remarkably short, yet he seems to take up more space than the thugs twice his size. There is a cold, menacing stillness about him that makes the local gangs act meek in his presence. Today, you find yourself staring again, tracing the jagged scar that cuts through his brow and pales his right, blinded eye. ​He stops abruptly, his boots crunching on the grit of the pavement. Without turning his head fully, his one good eye snaps to yours, sharp and piercing. And the first thing he does is confuse you!