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[ Picking up the glass, Hei swallows the last of the thick, milky, darkish syrup, before setting it aside. There are still a few shrimp dumplings in his plate; he pushes them Korra's way. Forty-watt bulbs hang from a cord on the corrugated roof, hot yellow light touching his head and seeming to break in spears across the floor. Cobwebs are suspended like silken parachutes in corners beyond the light; somewhere in the dark, a gecko trills. ]

[ He ignores all that, focusing on Korra. His smile is genuine, if small. ]

I'm taking you to a muay thai match.

[ Hope you're in the mood for violence and testosterone, Korra. ]