[ She can't help him, no. She's not Pai -- there's no solid pavement between them of mutual suffering, no bloodbond or deathbond that makes them as familiar and easy as twins. But there's enough pain and antagonism between him and Korra than distills itself into a good-enough closeness. In a way, Hei knows the fragmented intimacy is worse than none at all, because if BK201'a curse is to be alone, to bring ruin to everyone tied to him, then he should be alone, no sparks of sunshine in the dark. Korra is just an excursionist in his solitude. One way or another, she'll exit back to her brighter life, and Hei will return to his, outside the City. A life where half his team is dead and the survivors are eddying around him, where he's surrounded by civilians who'll never really understand him, not be allowed to get too close, because that is his life, tasked to keep everyone else at an arm's length. ]
[ How depressing. He should just send Korra back home and tell her not to see him again. ]
[ Instead he tucks her hand into his coat pocket. The gesture is so natural it unnerves him. ] You'll see. [ He has his sights set on a particular hotel near the Casino. It's a spot he thinks of as his type of place -- neat, anonymous and private. In many ways: perfect. ]
action;
[ How depressing. He should just send Korra back home and tell her not to see him again. ]
[ Instead he tucks her hand into his coat pocket. The gesture is so natural it unnerves him. ] You'll see. [ He has his sights set on a particular hotel near the Casino. It's a spot he thinks of as his type of place -- neat, anonymous and private. In many ways: perfect. ]