[ Granted, it's just an Okay. But it's not the content. It's the fact that she's willing to come over at all. His mind makes one of those associative leaps to the lazy afternoon with the lobster too. But he'd be delusional to think it's similar to that. The evening with the lobster was a test, true. A way to gauge his own capacity for patience. A way to gauge Korra's ease around him. But this is different. He doesn't expect her to be easy around him -- not in light of what transpired between them. But he'll do his best to rebuild that tenuous foundation, stone by stone. The dessert is an olive branch. And his offer -- a coded I've been thinking of you. ]
[ His own reply is just as brief. ]
Come by at 5:00
[ It's a freakishly warm day, the kind he associates with Hong Kong's monsoon season. Afternoons where people abandon their coats, where flies spawn inexplicably like alien invaders and buzz into the windows of overheated apartments. Hei can't sit indoors in the thaw. When Korra arrives, she'll spot him on the apartment stoop. Sprawled on a rattan armchair next to his elderly neighbours, in slacks and a T-shirt, slurping a popsicle that stains his lips blue. A game of quan dui is laid down neatly in front of them, and there is iced tea, a bowl of dry fruit and a nutcracker. ]
[It's hot enough that Korra's even changed her usual hairstyle. She arrives at Hei's apartment building a little after five, her hair pulled away from her neck & face in a messy bun and wearing a cropped shirt. She immediately regrets it when she sees his neighbors.]
Hello. [This is so awkward this is so awkward this is so awkward.]
[ Sunk deep in the armchair, fanning himself with a section of newspaper as if he's on a subway platform in July, Hei spots Korra approaching. As she gets up-close, he stops mid-lick on the popsicle. It's an effort not to stare. Of the elderly couple, the wife, almost pyramidical in her big chair, takes Korra's ensemble in with a moue of disapproval. Her husband, predictably, is more appreciative. With a blush, 'Li' endures some jocular ribbing in rapid Mandarin. Finishing the last bites of his popsicle, he brushes sticky fingers on his slacks and rises. Korra gets a small, blue-tinted smile. ]
Glad you made it. [ To the neighbours, in lieu of a proper introduction, ] This is, um, a friend of mine.
[ Yes, meet the brazen hussy corrupting your innocent little neighbour boy. ]
Edited (i can haz edits :3) 2013-05-18 18:04 (UTC)
Nice to meet you. [Except not really. She doesn't like the way either of them are looking at her. She didn't think it was that revealing... (She notices Hei's look too, but that doesn't bother her. She likes getting under his skin, even if it's just a little.)]
[ For what it's worth, the outfit isn't that revealing. Not by Hei's standards. The old people are just. Being old people. Case in point when Korra mentions the Taste tester, and the old man coughs to disguise a sudden guffaw. His wife silences that with one quick glare. ]
[ Can't you just feel the love? ]
[ Politely excusing himself, 'Li' guides Korra indoors with a barest brush of fingertips on the round of her shoulder, his breath smelling like blue raspberry and his hair curling at the ends in the humidity. Once they're a safe distance away, he says, in his usual tone, but still somewhat amiable, ]
With today's weather, a cold treat seemed like a good idea.
[ He means South America -- its temperatures somehow sizzling to boiling point in wake of the landmines, the rotting carcasses, the gunfire, the mosquitoes. In contrast, weather like this hardly puts him in a 'tropical' (read: heatstroke-addled) frame-of-mind. The opposite: it's almost balmy, the warmth settling like a soporific mist over his skin and making him yawn. ]
[ Opening the door to his flat, he leads her in. With all the windows open, the sunrays slanty and golden, the interior is almost cheery. But Hei has an odd feeling about his place. Like somehow, every time he leaves it, it settles into emptiness like that's its natural landscape. Even the pet lizard doesn't alleviate the feeling that the life here has dispersed. (Even Pai's shade seems to be gone.) ]
[ He always wants to turn on all the lights, music, fill the air with the aroma of cooking to stir the place out of its distemper. ]
[Korra makes a face. She does not envy him that. Ew.
There's a twisting feeling in her gut when he lets her inside. Everything's back to the way it was before she and Chekov messed with it, but somehow that just makes it more disconcerting. She lingers by the doorway, hesitant. As friendly as it looks, there are too many memories for her to feel comfortable.]
[ Her anxiety makes the sunlit air vibrate. Hei can't follow the specific thread of her thoughts. But he can sure as hell calculate their general direction. He shuts the door, then steps closer to her, stopping just out of arm's reach, as if kept back by a force field. While there's an impulse to touch her, he's ready to give her all the space that she requires. He doesn't want her to be skittish around him -- no moreso than she already is. ]
[ (Not now, when bit by careful bit, he's trying to make things up to her.) ]
[ After a tick, he extends a hand, a strange facsimile of softness showing in the set of his eyes and mouth. It's not his usual mute order -- Come here. It's something almost like Please? ]
[ There have only been a handful of times Hei was ever overwhelmed by fear. He's certainly never seen it as an excuse to run. But this isn't the kind of fear you just shove to the back of your mind -- not unless you've dealt with all its jagged edges. ]
[ Not unless you want it to leave your psyche shredded to ribbons. ]
[ When she takes his hand, he keeps his grip deliberately light. Non-threatening. Usually it's his habit to yank her in and plant a rough kiss on her lips -- no warnings, no consideration. There's a restraint here -- a watchfulness -- that reminds him of how he works marks into letting him close. Observing their body-language. Broadcasting himself as benign and sweet. But while the methods are similar in this case, the end result is not. ]
[ He just wants to put her at ease. ]
[ Tugging gently, he leads her into the kitchen. Says, with an undertone of irony, ] I promise no Imugis were harmed in the making of this dish.
[ Now that she's here, she feels at a loss for words. Awkward and a little shy, like her first time here, except instead of babbling she can't think of anything to say.
[ That So, like a girl greeting a blind date, reminds him, unbidden, of so many things. How young she is. How fucking precarious the evening is. How there are a million ways this could go pear-shaped. But in the end, Hei is here because he wants to be, and that in itself is enough of a novelty that he's willing to let the visit run its course at whatever pace -- in whatever direction -- Korra prefers. ]
[ He loosens his grip on her hand by slow degrees, fingertips trailing over hers before he lets go. From the freezer, he fetches the dessert and sets it on the counter, along with -- Well. ]
Fruitsicle. [ There's no reason to say Help yourself, since she already is. ] Watermelon, mangoes, kiwis and cherries. [ He slips onto the stool opposite to the counter, apparently ready to watch her eat everything. The scrutiny in his gaze is obvious, but there's a warmth in it too. He doesn't mind her being here, honestly, stirring up the stagnant air with her presence. She brings with her a fresh buzz of normalcy that fades as soon as she's gone, leaving everything once more stifling yet volatile. ]
It's good. [She hisses a little as the cold hits her teeth, but it's a welcome relief from the hot air. She takes another little bite, this time being more careful.
...he's watching her again, silent -- waiting? For her to say something? Do something? For lack of anything better, she gestures to the fruitsicles.]
I just ate one. [ Not that that's ever stopped him before, but brain-freeze isn't a pleasant sensation. Still, she seems jittery under his gaze. In an effort to be companionable, he reaches for one from the tray. Bites into it, the icy sweetness exploding on his tongue. He chews slowly, keeping his gaze averted, fixing it instead on the deepening blue sky visible from the window. ]
[ Finally, without looking over, ]
...Are you afraid of me? [ Not as non-sequitur as it seems, given the circumstances. ]
[That would be a lie. She is afraid of his mercurial temper, the blank expression he gets when he stops being human.]
A little.
[He crossed a line she'd never thought he would cross. It only got as far as a kiss, but that doesn't change the fact that he tried to use sex as a weapon against her. It wouldn't be quite so bad if she didn't like him, didn't like sleeping with him, but she does and it's like someone took a stuffed animal and turned it into a bomb.]
I don't know what you're going to do. It's like we're playing a game, but you're the only one who knows the rules and I only find out when I break them.
[She looks down and takes another bite of her fruitsicle. It's a relief to finally get that off her chest, but it's still frightening to have them hanging in the air.]
[ He could tell her -- I've been trained to turn every weakness, every form of intimacy, into a weapon. He could confess -- I've been playing games with prizes of life or death, and I don't know how to stop. He could lean in, press his lips to hers in a sweet restorative kiss that would explain everything without anything having to be said. A couple of breaths pass before he recognizes that he's never going to do any of these things. Instead he remains at a distance, eyes focused on the window. ]
[ Finally, setting the drippy fruitsicle back in its tray, he turns to face her. Not a direct glance; his gaze is dipped, mouth downturned. It's not shame, because that's not how Hei functions -- what's past is the past, and he doesn't see the point in dredging it up, but sometimes these discussions are necessary. She tries to keep it fun and simple, but I can't let her. Because I'm incapable of it -- or because I think I am. ]
[ But I can't keep treating her the way I do. She deserves better than that much at least. ]
[ A long moment of silence stretches out before he speaks, quiet and steady, ] I know I haven't been fair to you. And I'd like to say that I could do better. Or at least differently. But -- [ An exhale. ] Sometimes I'm not sure. All the things I do, the ways I behave -- none of it makes sense to you, I know. But they made sense in the environment I lived in. They were justified by that environment. It's like... knowing you can't live with certain things outside of a war. So you choose to stay at war. Does that make any sense?
[It doesn't. She tries to understand it, pokes and prods but she can't wrap her mind around it. She's intuitive and empathetic but it's too far outside the realm of her own experience. She can't connect his feelings to anything she's felt before, and she isn't an abstract thinker. She can't take the crumbs he's given her of his life before the City and extrapolate what he feels.]
You're in a different environment now. Why not change them?
[A year ago, the question would have been accusatory, but there is nothing angry in her voice now. She's genuinely trying to understand.]
[ Hei can feel her eyes on him -- bright with curiosity. There's no artifice in them, he knows that. On anyone else it might be a ploy to chisel away his barriers, to see the tick-tock of his mind up close. But Korra isn't like that. She's always been the embodiment of What You See Is What You Get ... With A Little Something Extra. ]
[ Not that it matters. These are questions he's asked himself often. Not just in the City, but back home. Repetition has stripped them of meaning, so they're just empty sounds now. His voice remains measured, his eyes locked straight ahead, remembering, ]
It's not so simple. [ A shark has to keep swimming or it dies. Reynard Maxley used to say that. As the years passed, Hei realized the comparison was strangely apt. ] It's more like I can't stop. I try, but the most I can do is take breaks from it. Like -- an addict falling on and off the wagon. But it always finds me again. Like it's trying to tell me that's all I am. [ Not a human. Not a Contractor. More like some grotesque third entity with the vices and virtues of both. ]
[She resists the urge to say You're more than that. Just keep trying. One day the break will be forever. She knows how it makes her feel when other people tell her she'll get her Avatar powers back someday, somehow. They don't understand, just like she doesn't understand right now.
She takes another bite of her fruitsicle as she tries to figure out where to go from here. She can't keep stumbling blindly through the dark, never knowing when she's going to step on a landmine, and she understands that she can't change him. But she doesn't want to give up just because it's hard.]
Do you want this? [He keeps kissing her and inviting her over, but that remains the real question, the one thing she needs to know more than anything else, the one thing they haven't really talked about. He's asked her several times if she wants it, but she's never asked the same of him. How much of it is just hormones and convenience? How much does he really want her around?]
[ Hei is more confused than astonished by the directness of her question. Not because he's unsure of the answer. But because, after the Syndicate, his own wants are secondary. There are things he's schooled himself not to want, because they present no practical function in his life. And there are things he's tricked himself to always want, because they are imperative for his survival. It's not often that he's allowed himself the chance to self-reflect, to think about the structure of his life and the people embroiled in it -- the indulgences vs. the necessities. ]
[ This mess with Korra is an interlude. A matter of convenience. He won't pretend he's not human, or that 18 year old ass is going to throw itself at him with such gusto. Yet that's beastializing it unnecessarily. After all, she has a space in his inventory. She has consequence. ]
[ Finally, quietly, ]
You're ... a deviation from the women I sleep with. [ There are paragraphs of subtext there. ] That's the reason you have these ... expectations I'm not used to dealing with. They're not wrong, or out-of-line. They're what any decent person would have. [ Except I'm not a decent person. ] It's flattering -- but a little disturbing -- to be wanted by someone like you. You're ... sweet... but you're also very young. The differences between us aren't trivial. Still -- [ A pause, as he tries to pick his way across the rocky surface toward honesty. ] I can stand it if you can.
[Little wrinkles appear on her forehead -- it's not a scowl, but close. That was a whole bundle of words, most of them unpleasant (deviation, disturbing, young). And none of them told her what she really needs to know.]
That doesn't answer my question. Do you want this?
[It's not worth the risk if he doesn't. She's not going to put herself on the line for someone just tolerating her for the sake of convenience.]
[ Her truculence gives him such a headache sometimes. Hei resists an overwhelming urge to rub his temples. At the same time, part of him knows this was coming. He expected it, the way a cripple marooned on an island expects the high tide. No matter how you duck and dodge, every human interaction gets to a point where A Talk is needed. Where shit gets muggy, the blur cannot be ignored, and has to be clarified. Boundaries need to be redefined, or just defined. When it's time to be upgraded from coach to first class or get the fuck off the plane and find another airline. ]
[ His hands clench on the table, then relax. He spreads them out in a gesture of almost-appeasement. His gaze dips to examine them, before he lifts it to meet Korra's, straight-on. His expression is flat, but somehow honest too, like it comes from deep down. ]
I want this. You should know that by now.
[ With the words come dual sensations. On the one hand, a sharp satisfaction like when a parachute blooms open. On the other hand, a sinking disquiet, like he's just signed his own death warrant. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Sunday! \^^/
[ Granted, it's just an Okay. But it's not the content. It's the fact that she's willing to come over at all. His mind makes one of those associative leaps to the lazy afternoon with the lobster too. But he'd be delusional to think it's similar to that. The evening with the lobster was a test, true. A way to gauge his own capacity for patience. A way to gauge Korra's ease around him. But this is different. He doesn't expect her to be easy around him -- not in light of what transpired between them. But he'll do his best to rebuild that tenuous foundation, stone by stone. The dessert is an olive branch. And his offer -- a coded I've been thinking of you. ]
[ His own reply is just as brief. ]
Come by at 5:00
[ It's a freakishly warm day, the kind he associates with Hong Kong's monsoon season. Afternoons where people abandon their coats, where flies spawn inexplicably like alien invaders and buzz into the windows of overheated apartments. Hei can't sit indoors in the thaw. When Korra arrives, she'll spot him on the apartment stoop. Sprawled on a rattan armchair next to his elderly neighbours, in slacks and a T-shirt, slurping a popsicle that stains his lips blue. A game of quan dui is laid down neatly in front of them, and there is iced tea, a bowl of dry fruit and a nutcracker. ]
[ A disturbingly domestic scene, all in all. ]
Re: Sunday! \^^/
Hello. [This is so awkward this is so awkward this is so awkward.]
Sunday! \^^/
Glad you made it. [ To the neighbours, in lieu of a proper introduction, ] This is, um, a friend of mine.
[ Yes, meet the brazen hussy corrupting your innocent little neighbour boy. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Nice to meet you. [Except not really. She doesn't like the way either of them are looking at her. She didn't think it was that revealing... (She notices Hei's look too, but that doesn't bother her. She likes getting under his skin, even if it's just a little.)]
So.......I heard there was a taste tester needed?
Sunday! \^^/
[ Can't you just feel the love? ]
[ Politely excusing himself, 'Li' guides Korra indoors with a barest brush of fingertips on the round of her shoulder, his breath smelling like blue raspberry and his hair curling at the ends in the humidity. Once they're a safe distance away, he says, in his usual tone, but still somewhat amiable, ]
With today's weather, a cold treat seemed like a good idea.
Sunday! \^^/
It's worse than Air Temple Island. How do people live in this kind of heat?
Re: Sunday! \^^/
[ He means South America -- its temperatures somehow sizzling to boiling point in wake of the landmines, the rotting carcasses, the gunfire, the mosquitoes. In contrast, weather like this hardly puts him in a 'tropical' (read: heatstroke-addled) frame-of-mind. The opposite: it's almost balmy, the warmth settling like a soporific mist over his skin and making him yawn. ]
[ Opening the door to his flat, he leads her in. With all the windows open, the sunrays slanty and golden, the interior is almost cheery. But Hei has an odd feeling about his place. Like somehow, every time he leaves it, it settles into emptiness like that's its natural landscape. Even the pet lizard doesn't alleviate the feeling that the life here has dispersed. (Even Pai's shade seems to be gone.) ]
[ He always wants to turn on all the lights, music, fill the air with the aroma of cooking to stir the place out of its distemper. ]
Sunday! \^^/
There's a twisting feeling in her gut when he lets her inside. Everything's back to the way it was before she and Chekov messed with it, but somehow that just makes it more disconcerting. She lingers by the doorway, hesitant. As friendly as it looks, there are too many memories for her to feel comfortable.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ (Not now, when bit by careful bit, he's trying to make things up to her.) ]
[ After a tick, he extends a hand, a strange facsimile of softness showing in the set of his eyes and mouth. It's not his usual mute order -- Come here. It's something almost like Please? ]
Sunday! \^^/
Sunday! \^^/
[ Not unless you want it to leave your psyche shredded to ribbons. ]
[ When she takes his hand, he keeps his grip deliberately light. Non-threatening. Usually it's his habit to yank her in and plant a rough kiss on her lips -- no warnings, no consideration. There's a restraint here -- a watchfulness -- that reminds him of how he works marks into letting him close. Observing their body-language. Broadcasting himself as benign and sweet. But while the methods are similar in this case, the end result is not. ]
[ He just wants to put her at ease. ]
[ Tugging gently, he leads her into the kitchen. Says, with an undertone of irony, ] I promise no Imugis were harmed in the making of this dish.
Sunday! \^^/
So...
[ Now that she's here, she feels at a loss for words. Awkward and a little shy, like her first time here, except instead of babbling she can't think of anything to say.
Maybe this was a mistake.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ He loosens his grip on her hand by slow degrees, fingertips trailing over hers before he lets go. From the freezer, he fetches the dessert and sets it on the counter, along with -- Well. ]
[ She seems a little overheated. ]
Sunday! \^^/
Food. Food is a good distraction. She picks up one of the popsicles.]
What's this?
[She doesn't wait for an answer to take a little bite out of it.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Like this isn't volatile? He brushes it off. ]
Sunday! \^^/
...he's watching her again, silent -- waiting? For her to say something? Do something? For lack of anything better, she gestures to the fruitsicles.]
Aren't you having any?
Sunday! \^^/
[ Finally, without looking over, ]
...Are you afraid of me? [ Not as non-sequitur as it seems, given the circumstances. ]
Sunday! \^^/
[That would be a lie. She is afraid of his mercurial temper, the blank expression he gets when he stops being human.]
A little.
[He crossed a line she'd never thought he would cross. It only got as far as a kiss, but that doesn't change the fact that he tried to use sex as a weapon against her. It wouldn't be quite so bad if she didn't like him, didn't like sleeping with him, but she does and it's like someone took a stuffed animal and turned it into a bomb.]
I don't know what you're going to do. It's like we're playing a game, but you're the only one who knows the rules and I only find out when I break them.
[She looks down and takes another bite of her fruitsicle. It's a relief to finally get that off her chest, but it's still frightening to have them hanging in the air.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Finally, setting the drippy fruitsicle back in its tray, he turns to face her. Not a direct glance; his gaze is dipped, mouth downturned. It's not shame, because that's not how Hei functions -- what's past is the past, and he doesn't see the point in dredging it up, but sometimes these discussions are necessary. She tries to keep it fun and simple, but I can't let her. Because I'm incapable of it -- or because I think I am. ]
[ But I can't keep treating her the way I do. She deserves better than that much at least. ]
[ A long moment of silence stretches out before he speaks, quiet and steady, ] I know I haven't been fair to you. And I'd like to say that I could do better. Or at least differently. But -- [ An exhale. ] Sometimes I'm not sure. All the things I do, the ways I behave -- none of it makes sense to you, I know. But they made sense in the environment I lived in. They were justified by that environment. It's like... knowing you can't live with certain things outside of a war. So you choose to stay at war. Does that make any sense?
Sunday! \^^/
You're in a different environment now. Why not change them?
[A year ago, the question would have been accusatory, but there is nothing angry in her voice now. She's genuinely trying to understand.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ Not that it matters. These are questions he's asked himself often. Not just in the City, but back home. Repetition has stripped them of meaning, so they're just empty sounds now. His voice remains measured, his eyes locked straight ahead, remembering, ]
It's not so simple. [ A shark has to keep swimming or it dies. Reynard Maxley used to say that. As the years passed, Hei realized the comparison was strangely apt. ] It's more like I can't stop. I try, but the most I can do is take breaks from it. Like -- an addict falling on and off the wagon. But it always finds me again. Like it's trying to tell me that's all I am. [ Not a human. Not a Contractor. More like some grotesque third entity with the vices and virtues of both. ]
Sunday! \^^/
She takes another bite of her fruitsicle as she tries to figure out where to go from here. She can't keep stumbling blindly through the dark, never knowing when she's going to step on a landmine, and she understands that she can't change him. But she doesn't want to give up just because it's hard.]
Do you want this? [He keeps kissing her and inviting her over, but that remains the real question, the one thing she needs to know more than anything else, the one thing they haven't really talked about. He's asked her several times if she wants it, but she's never asked the same of him. How much of it is just hormones and convenience? How much does he really want her around?]
Sunday! \^^/
[ This mess with Korra is an interlude. A matter of convenience. He won't pretend he's not human, or that 18 year old ass is going to throw itself at him with such gusto. Yet that's beastializing it unnecessarily. After all, she has a space in his inventory. She has consequence. ]
[ Finally, quietly, ]
You're ... a deviation from the women I sleep with. [ There are paragraphs of subtext there. ] That's the reason you have these ... expectations I'm not used to dealing with. They're not wrong, or out-of-line. They're what any decent person would have. [ Except I'm not a decent person. ] It's flattering -- but a little disturbing -- to be wanted by someone like you. You're ... sweet... but you're also very young. The differences between us aren't trivial. Still -- [ A pause, as he tries to pick his way across the rocky surface toward honesty. ] I can stand it if you can.
Sunday! \^^/
That doesn't answer my question. Do you want this?
[It's not worth the risk if he doesn't. She's not going to put herself on the line for someone just tolerating her for the sake of convenience.]
Sunday! \^^/
[ His hands clench on the table, then relax. He spreads them out in a gesture of almost-appeasement. His gaze dips to examine them, before he lifts it to meet Korra's, straight-on. His expression is flat, but somehow honest too, like it comes from deep down. ]
I want this. You should know that by now.
[ With the words come dual sensations. On the one hand, a sharp satisfaction like when a parachute blooms open. On the other hand, a sinking disquiet, like he's just signed his own death warrant. ]
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