[It takes a while. It doesn't take as long as Eren - not even close. Armin's never been the same type of crier that his beloved, cherished friend is. He sits up. He wipes his bloodshot, aching, burning eyes. He lets out one last high-pitched gasp, then sucks it in, shaking his head.]
I'm sorry. [He'll get it together. He has to.] I'm sorry. You don't even know me--
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I'm sorry. [He'll get it together. He has to.] I'm sorry. You don't even know me--
Thank you...