[ Drying his hands off on a dishtowel, Hei brushes past Korra, laying a hand on her arm, so lightly she'd barely feel the touch before he withdraws it. In the end, tactile reassurances, gratitude, reminders, are easiest for him to dish out. He's aware of the dangers of being left alone to his thoughts for too long. He'd rather make use of whatever lightness he has going with her. He doesn't bother asking himself how long that will be. This is the present, one of a series of moments like a string of beads, and he won't waste time counting beyond the one he holds in his palms now. ]
Quasimodo is still in the fridge, [ he says, the quirk to his mouth not a smile, but close enough. ] Do you want to take it with you? To eat later?
no subject
Quasimodo is still in the fridge, [ he says, the quirk to his mouth not a smile, but close enough. ] Do you want to take it with you? To eat later?