[ Perhaps it's just as well that she doesn't touch him. He's not sure he'd permit contact -- not sure he could endure it -- just then. Instead he nods dully, offering her an oblique look out of tired red-edged eyes. Her anger has something magisterial to it now, with that eerie calm unclouding the blueness of her eyes. Hei can be imperious too, but that's not what this is about, really. It's not about tossing a rabid mongrel a scrap of meat on the stern warning to Behave next time, either. ]

[ It's nothing more or less than a second chance. He tells himself he ought to be grateful. ]

[ Still, there's something he needs to clarify. Boundaries he needs to establish. It's not a warning but a reminder, that she's been party to some bad choices too. ] I don't know if you were cursed or not. But don't sneak into my flat again. [ His tone isn't accusatory, but it drops to a low, flat register. ] I'm not Chekov or Bolin. I don't have it in me [ maybe I never will?] to not retaliate to tricks. There wasn't a lot of 'playtime' where I grew up.

[ Only violence and death and one-upmanship. ]