[ The teashop (tea stall is a better descriptor) sits in the middle of the crowded boulevard, under the shade of ugly tamarind trees. The tables, the plastic stools, the tea glasses are all doll-sized and generally grubby. At this hour -- the night crowd not yet in full swing until 8 o'clock -- there are very few other customers. Just a pair of men playing xiangqi and smoking. Hei glances up from his greasy glass of tea and condensed milk -- and spots Korra in the shifting crowd immediately. Not like it's hard. Whether in the gloom or in dazzling light, that body strides like a wave cutting through the distance. Always this same first impression of Korra: not of sight but energy in fluid motion; then, with the first glimpse of her face, the surprise at how sweetly innocent she looks. ]
[ He doesn't smile. But there's a lightness in his gaze as she approaches. ]
I guess I don't need to ask if you were busy.
[ He sounds like he's ribbing her. But it's evident to anyone who knows him well enough that he's glad she showed up. ]
no subject
[ He doesn't smile. But there's a lightness in his gaze as she approaches. ]
I guess I don't need to ask if you were busy.
[ He sounds like he's ribbing her. But it's evident to anyone who knows him well enough that he's glad she showed up. ]