Of course it is still they. If Bertolt wouldn't be here, neither would Reiner be. They had been together for too long to separate over petty things, and should Bertolt have died, either by human hands or those of the dead, Reiner certainly wouldn't be alive. No matter how physically impressive he might be, mentally he's fraying too badly underneath everything that has happened, everything he has and has not done.

They are not quite as vulnerable out here as Annie imagines. They sweep the surrounding ground pretty regularly when they go out on a raid. In addition to that, the surrounding streets have some traps and barricades, curtsey of Armin's brain, that seem to stem the flow of zombies to one focal point, the one focal point he had been keeping an eye out on.

He doesn't even notice how rigid she goes in his arms, too distracted, half babbling. "Annie, fuck. Where have you-- Wait until Bertl sees this. Oh god, he's gonna freak. He's been worrying about you." One sentence comes tumbling out after the other, as if he isn't finishing one thought before voicing the next, caught between squeezing her and trying to pull her to the compound, and glancing over his shoulder, as if he is trying to spot Bertolt.