Turn on the water tap. Sop the sponge. Wash the plate. Rub it with the sponge while dunking it in a tile of soap. Re-wash the plate.
He didn't actually need to wash the plates for Historia has servants enough to do them.
It's just that he wanted to make himself useful in the household, while waiting for incoming information about Eren's whereabouts, his next move.
He sighed and mumbled a sad 'eren' under his breath.
"Hey, need any help?"
He stiffened instantly and looked over his shoulder in surprise. There, standing at the kitchen's entrance was a bored-looking Zeke Jaeger.
"Zeke-," he smiled politely and graciously shook his head. "No, thank you for offering. But I can do them myself,"
Zeke made a funny face as if grimacing and then looked determinedly back at him.
"Come on, Armin! Give me something to do! The tension is killing me," The sheer intensity of Zeke's scary, mesmerizing ice-aquamarine gaze flustered him.
"Ah-all right. You-you can dry the plates!" He shot out immediately.
Sigh. He actually understood what Zeke was trying to do. The tension was killing him—it was killing all of them. It explained why he was considering doing the dishes to keep himself busy.
Funny—It's funny he would think of this as an understanding. Zeke hadn't been really a pleasant person at first when he joined them, he was bitter and a tidbit cold towards him—everyone. Like a constant invisible wall was separating them.
Zeke tackled the appointed task without a complaint, reaching for a towel and then started drying the plates automatically.
"Thank you for understanding" Zeke's quiet murmur reached his ears, as he was about to clean off the soap from the last plate. He paused for a second and then nodded politely to indicate he had heard.
"Any time,"