[The Florida heat hits Armin like a wall. Even after two months, he's hardly used to it. He wears light clothes, light colors, and it still doesn't help how oppressive the sunshine feels. Armin takes a breath, squeezing his hands into fists at his sides for a brief moment. He takes a few steps so they're not blocking the door. He speaks only as loud as he needs to be for Jean to hear him.]

I can't say whether or not to trust me. Where you lay your trust is your decision, and I think to say "You should definitely trust me and I'm really sorry" at this point would be pretty self-serving.

I made a mistake saying that to you, obviously. I wanted to make sure you'd keep siding with me no matter what your doubts are. And I do think they're all responsible, so in my mind, it's not really a lie so much as it's twisting the truth. Which I'm sure you think is shitty, no matter what my intentions. So I'll try to take a broader view next time.

In the end, really, even if she sliced him open herself of course it isn't really her fault, right? Someone sent her on this mission, and someone put up the walls, and someone's been repressing knowledge of the outside world for a century, and on and on. Thinking like that, anyone might become paralyzed by inaction, and we can't simply wait for death to come to us.

Painting a target on her like that was unethical, but I don't doubt she and the other two must use similar excuses to turn on their friends.

[Armin crosses his arms, seeming to shrink a little.]

Do you think I enjoy being like this?