[ The look Hei gives her then is soft and blindish and bewildered, like he can't believe how dense she is. His body feels hollow now, a cold wind blowing through him even as his skin feels clammy in the still air. Remorse and I'm Sorrys have never been for the likes of him. But part of him feels them all the same, with a yearning sort of incomprehension, like an academic half-wit in a roomful of A graders, full of stymied willingness to try. His voice is suddenly cut down to the force and volume of a kewpie doll's. ]
I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sorry. [ For hurting her. For carrying on this mess with her. For touching her in the first place, that night in the shed. All of this could've been avoided, if he'd kept less alcohol and more wits about him. ]
[The confusion on his face makes her want to slap him and hug him all at once. Then just say so! ("I'm sorry" is one of the few things she rarely has trouble saying.)
She does neither. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets and lets out a shuddering breath.]
Then you're forgiven. This time. [She's reckless and naive and young, but she's not that soft. If something like this ever happens again, she will end things herself, completely and irrevocably. There is something of Avatar Kyoshi in the way she holds herself right now, the calm promise in her voice. Something of Master Katara too. Aang had the tender heart that offered Fire Lord Zuko another chance, but Katara had had the love & wisdom to demand that the exiled prince work for it.
Whether Hei decides to work for it or not is up to him. There is nothing sad or pleading or helpless in Korra's manner. If he chooses to throw in the towel at this point, it's to protect himself, not her.]
[ Perhaps it's just as well that she doesn't touch him. He's not sure he'd permit contact -- not sure he could endure it -- just then. Instead he nods dully, offering her an oblique look out of tired red-edged eyes. Her anger has something magisterial to it now, with that eerie calm unclouding the blueness of her eyes. Hei can be imperious too, but that's not what this is about, really. It's not about tossing a rabid mongrel a scrap of meat on the stern warning to Behave next time, either. ]
[ It's nothing more or less than a second chance. He tells himself he ought to be grateful. ]
[ Still, there's something he needs to clarify. Boundaries he needs to establish. It's not a warning but a reminder, that she's been party to some bad choices too. ] I don't know if you were cursed or not. But don't sneak into my flat again. [ His tone isn't accusatory, but it drops to a low, flat register. ] I'm not Chekov or Bolin. I don't have it in me [ maybe I never will?] to not retaliate to tricks. There wasn't a lot of 'playtime' where I grew up.
[You're going to order me -- The words don't come out, because a part of her knows it's...not fair, and not right, but... acceptable. She and Chekov had known going into it that Hei would be pissed off by the prank. They knew they were crossing a boundary.]
I'm sorry. [Her crime may be small compared to his, but it still warrants an apology.]
[ A nod, not churlish but weary. He doesn't have it in him to contain all that resentment just now. His exhaustion is sudden and terrible; he can't feel his limbs. His gaze isn't steely but it's careful, studying the planes of her face, trying to reach some decision within himself. ]
[ When he finally speaks, the words are thick and blocky as if yanked from dried mud. ]
I'm going to give you some time to think this whole night over. If you're still sure you want to continue this [ because if there's one thing he's learnt, it's that distance and a full night's sleep can make you reassess a lot of choices made in the heat of the moment ] then I don't think we should carry on the way we have been.
[ Changes. That word again. There'll have to be changes made. ]
[ Hei takes her twitch for what it is -- a gesture indicative of imminent departure -- and manages a barely-there nod. He occupies the bench almost deadweight now, the bags under his eyes, the almost imperceptible sagging of his whole body, projecting his exhaustion. ] Go hom-- [ He starts to say, but he yawns quite suddenly, one of those wide spasmic seizures that signal the body's had enough of everything. ]
[ There's a very palpable threat of him dozing off on the bench. ]
Korra just....stares. She's seen him sleepy before, but never asleep. Ever. Never even "I thought he was asleep but he was actually awake." She's almost tempted to poke him to see if it's some kind of trick, but it's not the kind of trick he'd play. Not tonight, anyway.
He's...actually asleep.
Any other night, she would stay. Enjoy the view. Savor the novelty. Memorize the look on his face, so different from his normal expression. Tonight she's not that sentimental and he's not that forgiven. She briefly debates waking him up and sending him home, or at least to the Welcome Center, some place with an actual bed, but that would involve touching him and even though she's tempted, she's not yet ready.
He'll be fine, anyway. It's a nice spring night, and she doesn't doubt that if anybody tries to mug him, they'll get more than they bargained for.
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I wouldn't be here if I wasn't sorry. [ For hurting her. For carrying on this mess with her. For touching her in the first place, that night in the shed. All of this could've been avoided, if he'd kept less alcohol and more wits about him. ]
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She does neither. Instead, she shoves her hands in her pockets and lets out a shuddering breath.]
Then you're forgiven. This time. [She's reckless and naive and young, but she's not that soft. If something like this ever happens again, she will end things herself, completely and irrevocably. There is something of Avatar Kyoshi in the way she holds herself right now, the calm promise in her voice. Something of Master Katara too. Aang had the tender heart that offered Fire Lord Zuko another chance, but Katara had had the love & wisdom to demand that the exiled prince work for it.
Whether Hei decides to work for it or not is up to him. There is nothing sad or pleading or helpless in Korra's manner. If he chooses to throw in the towel at this point, it's to protect himself, not her.]
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[ It's nothing more or less than a second chance. He tells himself he ought to be grateful. ]
[ Still, there's something he needs to clarify. Boundaries he needs to establish. It's not a warning but a reminder, that she's been party to some bad choices too. ] I don't know if you were cursed or not. But don't sneak into my flat again. [ His tone isn't accusatory, but it drops to a low, flat register. ] I'm not Chekov or Bolin. I don't have it in me [ maybe I never will?] to not retaliate to tricks. There wasn't a lot of 'playtime' where I grew up.
[ Only violence and death and one-upmanship. ]
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I'm sorry. [Her crime may be small compared to his, but it still warrants an apology.]
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[ When he finally speaks, the words are thick and blocky as if yanked from dried mud. ]
I'm going to give you some time to think this whole night over. If you're still sure you want to continue this [ because if there's one thing he's learnt, it's that distance and a full night's sleep can make you reassess a lot of choices made in the heat of the moment ] then I don't think we should carry on the way we have been.
[ Changes. That word again. There'll have to be changes made. ]
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Gee, thanks. [Not that it's not a good idea, but... she's still hyper-sensitive.
Shaking off a wave of exhaustion and irritation, she turns to leave. It's been a rough night. She's ready to be done with it.]
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[ There's a very palpable threat of him dozing off on the bench. ]
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BK201. Interpol and Pandora's most wanted Contractor. Dreaded scourge of Heaven's War ...
...is asleep. ]
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SERIOUSLY.
Korra just....stares. She's seen him sleepy before, but never asleep. Ever. Never even "I thought he was asleep but he was actually awake." She's almost tempted to poke him to see if it's some kind of trick, but it's not the kind of trick he'd play. Not tonight, anyway.
He's...actually asleep.
Any other night, she would stay. Enjoy the view. Savor the novelty. Memorize the look on his face, so different from his normal expression. Tonight she's not that sentimental and he's not that forgiven. She briefly debates waking him up and sending him home, or at least to the Welcome Center, some place with an actual bed, but that would involve touching him and even though she's tempted, she's not yet ready.
He'll be fine, anyway. It's a nice spring night, and she doesn't doubt that if anybody tries to mug him, they'll get more than they bargained for.
Shaking her head, she goes home.]