[ At her remark, Hei's smile widens just a fraction -- not mocking but rueful. He's good with words but not at being genuine with them. Instead he settles for threading his fingers with hers, squeezing almost reassuringly. At a quick stroll, he weaves through the waiting line, ignoring angry looks and hissed protests. At the velvet rope, he tells the guardian of the kingdom his name is on the list. The girl skims through her device and says, ]
I don't see your name, Mister Shinsen. [ Hei resists an eyeroll. Not again. It's exhausting having to spell his name out to everyone. Even if it is an alias. ] Shen-shung. S-h-e-n [ fuck ] s-h-u-n-g. [ you. The woman checks again, works out that alphabetical thing and finds his name, then nods with a faux-smile. ]
Okay. Welcome aboard. [ Shaking his head, Hei leads Korra down a flight of dark steps lit by eerie red lanterns, through a noisy corridor to the main room. Music pounds and pulsates, the bass line so tight it almost pushes them back down the corridor. Keeping Korra's hand in his, he squeezes his way into a crowd of tight clothes, short dresses, and small tops that show off colorful tattoos on stomachs and arms, all in the classiest freak-momma gear, a few in their own too-skanky-to-be-classy wardrobes. Men are primping around, drinks in hand, Cary Grant facades in effect, inspecting the wares with blatant stares, all geared up in everything from Italian suits to grunge. Of course, this is the Underground. Most of the boys are twice as broke as the girls. Fronting in luxury cars, but still living in one-bedroom apartments with their mommies. Everyone perpetrates in this area. ]
[ Leaning in to Korra's ear, Hei asks, ] You want something to drink first?
no subject
I don't see your name, Mister Shinsen.
[ Hei resists an eyeroll. Not again. It's exhausting having to spell his name out to everyone. Even if it is an alias. ] Shen-shung. S-h-e-n [ fuck ] s-h-u-n-g. [ you. The woman checks again, works out that alphabetical thing and finds his name, then nods with a faux-smile. ]
Okay. Welcome aboard.
[ Shaking his head, Hei leads Korra down a flight of dark steps lit by eerie red lanterns, through a noisy corridor to the main room. Music pounds and pulsates, the bass line so tight it almost pushes them back down the corridor. Keeping Korra's hand in his, he squeezes his way into a crowd of tight clothes, short dresses, and small tops that show off colorful tattoos on stomachs and arms, all in the classiest freak-momma gear, a few in their own too-skanky-to-be-classy wardrobes. Men are primping around, drinks in hand, Cary Grant facades in effect, inspecting the wares with blatant stares, all geared up in everything from Italian suits to grunge. Of course, this is the Underground. Most of the boys are twice as broke as the girls. Fronting in luxury cars, but still living in one-bedroom apartments with their mommies. Everyone perpetrates in this area. ]
[ Leaning in to Korra's ear, Hei asks, ] You want something to drink first?