Not just dying in a few years Reiner thought, if he did indeed make it that far, but dying slowly bit by bit once his 13 years expired. "You've become a bit of a philosopher, Mikasa," he said with a small smile. "Being able to chose anything would be more than I ever thought I would have. Maybe just that is enough." That and the sense of being able to slow down, to not be in the midst always of such urgency, and the stress, grief and loss.
Picking up his glass he took the last few gulps and sat back in his seat, not so sure what to say or do. Maybe honesty as best he could manage it would serve him well. What was wrong with him he didn't really know or understand, it was something that overcame him, left him rattled and uncertain of everything. "I've been a warrior, infiltrator, survivor, soldier, a friend and traitor. It all comes with a price, sometimes, it just," he said with a shrug. "It becomes too much. Sometimes."
Not sure of how he would handle any terrible news, he had avoided asking anything much about what would come to pass in the years between them. Unable to hide the look of anger which washed over his features, he sat silent. Bertolt was closer to him than most, not just in the roles he had to play, but beyond all of that. But with all that anger too came grief. He had failed to keep him safe, and Annie too for that matter, who was trapped and captive. "I see." Was the best reply he could offer. Looking off to the side he avoided looking at Mikasa, at least for the moment and the majority of the anger passed.