[ Hei bites back a hundred rejoinders, from the cold to the dismissive, and settles on a single shake of the head. She's being the kind of pushy that usually pisses him off. It's an effort not to bite her head off. Instead he scrubs a palm across the back of his neck, his expression a particular kind of flatline that says he's not sure how to respond. He's used to being a liar. It's easier that way, when you have no idea how to be yourself. ]

[ But if there's anything he's imbibed from the past few months in the City, it's how to interact with people as people. Or try to, at least. Give her something. A crumb. A detail. He's not sure if he's compromising or rationalizing. And that bothers him. ]

It's not your face. It's just. You keep reminding me of something. [ Not someone. Because yes, the resemblance to Pai is unavoidable. But mostly it's that vibe about Korra. A simplicity that he's been trained to view as deception. ] And that comes with little gusts of being happy and sad at the same time.

[ And resentful. And bitter. And dubious. How is it so easy for her, easy to feel, easy to ask? When for him ... His head starts pounding. This is why it will always be wrong between them, he'll always be wrong, strange and adrift, because being what he is has gutted him. ]