[ Hei is aware of the situational distinctions. But he's also aware that emotional abuse is emotional abuse, regardless of whether it's dished out to a weakling or to a fighter. They might react to it in different degrees, but the bottom line doesn't change. He can already see the telltale marks of past his cruelties in Korra. The way she verbally tiptoes around him, the undercurrent of tension that never quite fades when they finish fucking. Everything he might tell her -- that he gets angry at her only because he's angry at himself, that his past has taught him to smell traps in every pleasure, fatal miscalculations in every softness; that he's plunged in hesitation after the waste of his team -- all that might make emotional sense, might rouse her sympathy. ]
[ But it won't fix anything. His baggage, his limitations, will still be there. They'll keep cutting him inside, and cut her in turn, because that instinct to defend himself, to hold himself away from comfort, is so much a part of him that it's never not there. ]
[ For the second time, Hei thinks: What am I doing here with her? ]
[ One by one, he rinses the glasses and mechanically passes them over to her. His manner is controlled, but the eyes regard her in brief glimpses that might pass for wistfulness. ]
no subject
[ But it won't fix anything. His baggage, his limitations, will still be there. They'll keep cutting him inside, and cut her in turn, because that instinct to defend himself, to hold himself away from comfort, is so much a part of him that it's never not there. ]
[ For the second time, Hei thinks: What am I doing here with her? ]
[ One by one, he rinses the glasses and mechanically passes them over to her. His manner is controlled, but the eyes regard her in brief glimpses that might pass for wistfulness. ]