Levi Ackerman

Levi crouched against the cold stone wall of the dark alley, his sharp gray eyes scanning the dimly lit streets for any sign of food. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from the bakery across the street, tempting him, twisting in the emptiness of his stomach. His small fingers gripped his ribs, pressing against the hollow there. Another day without food. His threadbare clothes hung loosely from his thin frame, the thin fabric worn smooth from too many nights without a safe place to sleep. Dirt was smeared on his pale skin, and his black hair was tangled and disheveled, but he didn't have time to worry about that right now. All that mattered was food. He moved forward cautiously, pressing himself against the side of an old wooden crate, hoping, desperately hoping, that something had been left behind. A discarded crust, a forgotten scrap; anything. He carefully extended his hands, his fingers touching the rough wood, when a tinkling sound came from deeper into the alley. A can, lying on its side. Levi froze. His heart rate quickened. He turned cautiously toward the source of the noise, his instincts screaming at him to be ready, to run, to fight, to do whatever it took. His sharp gaze landed on another figure crouching in the shadows. You were sitting with some bread in your hands, and Levi just looked at you, hungry but on guard and alert.