[ This really isn't Hei's kind of crowd. Too glammed up, too glitzy. But it's a step up from the teenybopper club Korra invited him to last time. At least there's no dupstep. ]
[ He represses a smile as she tugs him to the dancefloor, the vivid energy of her singing along his skin, like swathes of tonal color. The entrance exhales humid air, brimming with sweat and pancake makeup. All the oxygen seems leached out, and every breath is hot and empty. At the walkway, two women -- one knife-thin girl with metallic blond hair and a Filipino girl in blue micro-mini, both sporting fishnet stockings and three-inch acrylic nails -- stop him and Korra for round two, not an inspection but to stamp their arms and ask if they'd like a reservation to dinner. ]
[ It's tempting make one. But Hei can tell Korra's more interested in the music. ]
[ Inside, on all levels, it's dark. Strobe lighting, LEDs, and neons are in full, disorienting effect. Psychedelic art and sculptures; glowing tiles lining the walkways. The air is filled with machine-generated fog and colorful floating bubbles. Lots of snacks and plenty of booze -- enough to make everyone want to sign up for rehab by sunset. Hei can barely hear anything above the blasting music from the sound system. The noise is deafening. He allows Korra to draw him through the swarm of colorful bodies. Lets the sounds sink into him, feeding an energy that floats up strong and distinct out of his usual blackness. Crowded dancefloors, chaotic melees, adrenalined fights -- they all spark a similar vibe in him. Instinctive motion. ]
[ Catching Korra by the waist, he swings her in. Tentative at first, but then he's guiding her through the steps, breaking to spin her under his arm until she gets the idea on her own. ]
no subject
[ He represses a smile as she tugs him to the dancefloor, the vivid energy of her singing along his skin, like swathes of tonal color. The entrance exhales humid air, brimming with sweat and pancake makeup. All the oxygen seems leached out, and every breath is hot and empty. At the walkway, two women -- one knife-thin girl with metallic blond hair and a Filipino girl in blue micro-mini, both sporting fishnet stockings and three-inch acrylic nails -- stop him and Korra for round two, not an inspection but to stamp their arms and ask if they'd like a reservation to dinner. ]
[ It's tempting make one. But Hei can tell Korra's more interested in the music. ]
[ Inside, on all levels, it's dark. Strobe lighting, LEDs, and neons are in full, disorienting effect. Psychedelic art and sculptures; glowing tiles lining the walkways. The air is filled with machine-generated fog and colorful floating bubbles. Lots of snacks and plenty of booze -- enough to make everyone want to sign up for rehab by sunset. Hei can barely hear anything above the blasting music from the sound system. The noise is deafening. He allows Korra to draw him through the swarm of colorful bodies. Lets the sounds sink into him, feeding an energy that floats up strong and distinct out of his usual blackness. Crowded dancefloors, chaotic melees, adrenalined fights -- they all spark a similar vibe in him. Instinctive motion. ]
[ Catching Korra by the waist, he swings her in. Tentative at first, but then he's guiding her through the steps, breaking to spin her under his arm until she gets the idea on her own. ]