[ It feels so fucking domestic, this whole thing: sitting crosslegged in the middle of the room, the table crowded with open white cartons, his eyes trying to catch the exact color of the surprising red light, the way it glints off Korra's hair. Something weirdly intimate -- a pantomime Hei's only ever done when wearing aliases and false faces. But it comes easier than expected. An experience he'll be glad to recall later on -- if there is a later on. ]
[ When they're both full, he sets his empties aside with a matter-of-fact movement. When he leans in to kiss her, under the halo of the burnt-red light, the chili oil on his lips seems to burn hotter. He's never been someone who could be satisfied with anything so reliable as this. But like so many other things ... it comes far too easily with Korra here. ]
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[ When they're both full, he sets his empties aside with a matter-of-fact movement. When he leans in to kiss her, under the halo of the burnt-red light, the chili oil on his lips seems to burn hotter. He's never been someone who could be satisfied with anything so reliable as this. But like so many other things ... it comes far too easily with Korra here. ]