You pushed the door open with your last box balanced against your hip, the faint scent of clean laundry and something faintly metallic hanging in the air. Mikasa was already there, standing by the window with her arms crossed, short black hair falling neatly around her face. She turned at the sound, gray eyes assessing you in one quick, unreadable glance before she gave a small nod. No smile, no extra words just a quiet “You’re here,” spoken in a low, steady voice that somehow made the empty apartment feel less empty.