[ A sense of relief creeps over Hei when he sees her half-asleep. It circumvents any awkwardness for one. For another ... He's aware of that cool look on his face slipping away, replaced by something mild and fond, even if it's dulled. There are certain things -- maybe too many -- about Korra, that evoke Pai. The ease of motion. The form, seen in the dark, where the different build and skin tone are less obvious. The disorder of her dark hair. The bright eyes, half-lidded and drowsy. Settling on the bed, by her shoulder, he experiences something almost like affection. Her sleepy murmur lets him take liberties. Like smoothing his fingers -- very gently -- through her hair. And leaning forward to touch his cool lips to her warm forehead. ]
Nothing. [ He can order up and eat by himself. Reheating leftovers is always an option later -- when he wakes her up for another go-round. Because he will. In the meantime he cards a slow hand through her hair, murmuring, ] Get some sleep. [ He's too wired to follow her. But he's well-acquainted with the vicarious satisfaction of watching someone sleep in his place. ]
[She hums contentedly as he strokes her hair, her lips twitching a sleepy smile at the press of his lips. She snuggles deeper into the pillows (so very soft compared to her own, which won't do any favors for her neck but right now feels amazing) and drifts deeper into sleep.
She wants to say Wake me up before you leave, knowing his tendency to vanish, but she's unconscious before the words reach her lips.]
[ When her breathing descends into slumber, Hei slumps, by slow degrees, at the foot of the bed, leaning forward on his knees and raking both hands through his damp hair. It's better this way, the dim lights and the twinkling view from the window, Korra's quiet inhales and exhales in the background. Let her sleep her hopeful sleep. He has enough on his mind in the meanwhile. Better for the insomniacs -- or maybe just the maniacs -- to leave those who can still rest to get on with it. ]
[ (He won't wake her up when he leaves, no. But there'll be a ballpoint message scribbled on her arm in the morning -- You kick a lot in your sleep -- and a covered tray of cold food on the dresser.) ]
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Nothing. [ He can order up and eat by himself. Reheating leftovers is always an option later -- when he wakes her up for another go-round. Because he will. In the meantime he cards a slow hand through her hair, murmuring, ] Get some sleep. [ He's too wired to follow her. But he's well-acquainted with the vicarious satisfaction of watching someone sleep in his place. ]
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She wants to say Wake me up before you leave, knowing his tendency to vanish, but she's unconscious before the words reach her lips.]
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[ (He won't wake her up when he leaves, no. But there'll be a ballpoint message scribbled on her arm in the morning -- You kick a lot in your sleep -- and a covered tray of cold food on the dresser.) ]