[ Hei leans against the wall, stretching his legs along the worn booth seat, and glances at her. She's a little rumpled, but his look is full of a lazy uncomplicated pleasure in her presence. The bracelet was just a token -- outfitted with a tracker -- since he had no idea how she'd take the gesture. Buying someone gifts is so human. Especially when it's not calculating or transactive in nature. Some people buy modest gifts; some people buy extravagant ones. ]
[ Ordinarily, Hei prefers to keep his in the range of practical. But there's very little he can give Korra, that she'd be happy to use. Only one thing comes close: helping her find some way to get her bending back. But he knows nothing about her world -- much less about Avatars or Chakras. ]
[ Dryly, he says, ] You're tricky to think up gifts for.
[She rests her chin on her hand. Sitting up feels like too much effort.]
It's not like you have to get me anything. [She has no particular fondness for presents anyway. They don't hold any association as tokens of affection for her. When she thinks of gifts, she thinks of Tarrlok, and how he tried to buy her cooperation with increasingly extravagant presents.]
Hmm. I should just make awful demands of you instead.
[ He lets his gaze skate across the diner's periphery. They're in the booth right in the back, that affords ideal views of the entrance, exit and kitchen. The plate glass window he sits across reflects a row of stools and a table occupied by two necking vampires, pale against the faded pink walls and floors. The waitress wears pink too, and her eyes are bleary. She steps in carrying big food-trays, one for Hei and one for Korra. As soon as the plates of greasy food are set on the table, Hei remembers the depth of his hunger. He eats nearly everything, pancakes, eggs, sausage, potatoes, but between sips of his coffee, he finds himself patiently watching Korra. ]
[ There's an odd deja vu fizzing at the corners of his memory. Outings with Amber, overlapping with that crazy night with Chiaki-not-Chiaki in Tokyo, to the first time he took child-Korra to a dinette, to the last diner he'd broken up with her adult version in. ]
[ After the first edge of both their hunger is sated, he stifles a yawn, murmuring, ] Ready to go? [ It'll be sun-up soon. The pair of vampires adjacent to them obviously don't realize that. With the angle of the window, they'll be fried in the next five minutes. ]
You don't do that already? [She makes a face at him. And then FOOD! SWEET FOOD! Her stomach is practically devouring itself; Korra wolfs down her entire meal almost in a breath.
To his question:]
Yeah.
[She probably ate too fast, or maybe it's just the greasy, unfamiliar food, or some after-effect of the hash. Either way, she's beginning to feel nauseous. Not enough to think she'll throw up, but enough to feel uncomfortable. The idea of being home in her own bed is immensely appealing.]
[ In hindsight, he probably should've warned her to pace herself. ]
[ Hei leaves a big tip on the table, and hauls himself to his feet. A dim glow saturates the sky outside, outlining the buildings in pale blue. Taking Korra's arm, he guides her toward the exit. The vampires barely glance up at him as he passes, both entwined and kissing, their gazes dreamy, like surfeited kittens. Reaching for the door, Hei watches the sunrays slant into the diner. Hears the first startled cry, followed by a crash of broken mugs as one of the vampires leaps up in alarm. The smell of charred flesh fills the air. It only lasts a moment. Between one eyeblink and the next, the pair burst into explosive clouds of grit. ]
[ What a mess. ]
[ Grimacing, Hei nudges Korra out. ] Love makes people so stupid. [ It's a flat observation, but somehow, it sounds to his own ears like a warning. ]
[Korra wouldn't have been nearly so blase about the deaths, even if they are bloodsucking fiends.
Fortunately, Hei is nudging thin air. Korra had caught sight of one of her old biker friends and was out the door before the vamps suffered their unfortunate fate. She's busy laughing and doing the weird elaborate handshake the bikers had taught her.
[ There's a pile of grit where the vampires once were. Hoping they'd at least tipped the waitress, Hei shuts the door and refocuses on Korra. It's almost cute seeing her pally with someone other than a Polar Bear Dog. He utilizes the moment to scan his Network device for any curious entries, and to check the security key to his apartment, in case Pai's in trouble. All clear; the sensors indicate she's tucked up in bed. But like most parents, Hei won't be perfectly reassured until he's home to check on her in person. ]
[ With a cursory nod to the biker, he sidles up behind Korra. ] Friend of yours?
[Korra holds up her hands pacifyingly.] Chill out! This is my boyfriend.....Li. [It takes her a moment to remember to use his moniker. The boyfriend part trips easily off her tongue, with the same schmoop level as "buddy" or "friend" or "asshole I work with." Matter of fact more than anything else; after all, they go out together, have sex fairly frequently, and discussed being exclusive, even if they decided against it. What else would they be?
[ He winces at the mention of Boyfriend; disguises it as a twitch of the nose. He wishes she wouldn't do that. Assigning a label to someone is like locking them in a box. All those things are traps created by someone else. A mold to fit into, patterns to conform to, roles he must learn the lines for. Best Friend. Time-sink. Nuisance. Life Lesson. Mentor. Hei's learnt from Amber that you can be all those things, or none of them. You can put on those masks or take them off at will. Amber used to say: I'll be whatever it is you need me to be at that moment, and not in the next. The fluidity and freedom of different personas. ]
[ Hei's look is impassive as he glances from Korra to the biker. ] Reggie. Right. [ It runs parallel with Whatever. To Korra, ] We were leaving. [ A reminder, not a question. ]
[As far as Korra's concerned, Hei already knows his lines. It's not like she knows enough about relationships to have preconceived notions of what a boyfriend should and shouldn't be, or should and shouldn't do.
She smiles at Reggie and tugs him in for a hug.]
It was good seeing you again, Reggie.
[He's still eyeing Hei suspiciously.] Don't be a stranger, Ballbuster.
[ Hei returns the suspicious squint with a level look. Tries to ignore a dull pang as Korra hugs the man. It's not jealousy so much as a mild ruefulness. He can't do that for her, be so spontaneous and casual about physical contact. The most harmless touch makes him bristle, like a cat that's been kicked too often. There's such horror in intimacy, in being known. It's as if people make nooses of what they can prove about you. There was nothing quite as suffocating to him. ]
[ He lets Korra and Reggie say their goodbyes. Waits until he's gone, before falling into step with Korra. ]
Well. At least all the men in your life aren't creeps. [ Double-edged statement. ]
[ He meets her gaze with reluctance. His jaw twitches, then stills, the gaze dim and opaque. It's a clear sign that the buzz from the hash, sex and dancing has faded. His expression has reverted to its signature flatline. ]
It's nothing.
[ Just the ever-cropping mystery of why this girl, who could have her pick of normal, nicey-nice boys, is compelled to hang around him. Childhood neglect. Unsupportive environments. Lack of attention or approval. He isn't sure if it's one, or all -- but it still irks him sometimes. ]
Edited (/throws her phone away DX) 2013-08-30 02:12 (UTC)
It's never nothing. [She rolls her eyes at him. If he's going to get pissy and obnoxious, she can make her own way home. Why ruin a perfectly pleasant outing with his attitude?]
[ It's a dismissal, but he can't help but feel it's also such a banal remark, as if they've had a little tiff about which restaurant or club, instead of the inherent wrongness of Korra & Hei. ]
[ Mildly surprised, Hei glances at Korra again. His look isn't quite so impassive now; after a blink or two, a weary half-smile flits across his lips. In the sunlight the skin of his face, though firm, reveals a tracery of lines at the corners of the eyes, like those on a man twice his age. But it's a boyish gesture when he knocks his shoulder lightly against hers, adjusting the rhythm of his steps and breathing to coincide with hers. ]
[ Go with the flow, Amber used to say. While that's an impossibility, given Hei's nature, there are moments when it's good advice. Moments when, freed of the messy tangle of past or future, the present can be just shy of perfect. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[ Ordinarily, Hei prefers to keep his in the range of practical. But there's very little he can give Korra, that she'd be happy to use. Only one thing comes close: helping her find some way to get her bending back. But he knows nothing about her world -- much less about Avatars or Chakras. ]
[ Dryly, he says, ] You're tricky to think up gifts for.
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It's not like you have to get me anything. [She has no particular fondness for presents anyway. They don't hold any association as tokens of affection for her. When she thinks of gifts, she thinks of Tarrlok, and how he tried to buy her cooperation with increasingly extravagant presents.]
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[ He lets his gaze skate across the diner's periphery. They're in the booth right in the back, that affords ideal views of the entrance, exit and kitchen. The plate glass window he sits across reflects a row of stools and a table occupied by two necking vampires, pale against the faded pink walls and floors. The waitress wears pink too, and her eyes are bleary. She steps in carrying big food-trays, one for Hei and one for Korra. As soon as the plates of greasy food are set on the table, Hei remembers the depth of his hunger. He eats nearly everything, pancakes, eggs, sausage, potatoes, but between sips of his coffee, he finds himself patiently watching Korra. ]
[ There's an odd deja vu fizzing at the corners of his memory. Outings with Amber, overlapping with that crazy night with Chiaki-not-Chiaki in Tokyo, to the first time he took child-Korra to a dinette, to the last diner he'd broken up with her adult version in. ]
[ After the first edge of both their hunger is sated, he stifles a yawn, murmuring, ] Ready to go? [ It'll be sun-up soon. The pair of vampires adjacent to them obviously don't realize that. With the angle of the window, they'll be fried in the next five minutes. ]
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To his question:]
Yeah.
[She probably ate too fast, or maybe it's just the greasy, unfamiliar food, or some after-effect of the hash. Either way, she's beginning to feel nauseous. Not enough to think she'll throw up, but enough to feel uncomfortable. The idea of being home in her own bed is immensely appealing.]
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[ Hei leaves a big tip on the table, and hauls himself to his feet. A dim glow saturates the sky outside, outlining the buildings in pale blue. Taking Korra's arm, he guides her toward the exit. The vampires barely glance up at him as he passes, both entwined and kissing, their gazes dreamy, like surfeited kittens. Reaching for the door, Hei watches the sunrays slant into the diner. Hears the first startled cry, followed by a crash of broken mugs as one of the vampires leaps up in alarm. The smell of charred flesh fills the air. It only lasts a moment. Between one eyeblink and the next, the pair burst into explosive clouds of grit. ]
[ What a mess. ]
[ Grimacing, Hei nudges Korra out. ] Love makes people so stupid. [ It's a flat observation, but somehow, it sounds to his own ears like a warning. ]
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Fortunately, Hei is nudging thin air. Korra had caught sight of one of her old biker friends and was out the door before the vamps suffered their unfortunate fate. She's busy laughing and doing the weird elaborate handshake the bikers had taught her.
I miss the Underground. Who'da thunk?]
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[ There's a pile of grit where the vampires once were. Hoping they'd at least tipped the waitress, Hei shuts the door and refocuses on Korra. It's almost cute seeing her pally with someone other than a Polar Bear Dog. He utilizes the moment to scan his Network device for any curious entries, and to check the security key to his apartment, in case Pai's in trouble. All clear; the sensors indicate she's tucked up in bed. But like most parents, Hei won't be perfectly reassured until he's home to check on her in person. ]
[ With a cursory nod to the biker, he sidles up behind Korra. ] Friend of yours?
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Could ask you the same thing.
[Korra holds up her hands pacifyingly.] Chill out! This is my boyfriend.....Li. [It takes her a moment to remember to use his moniker. The boyfriend part trips easily off her tongue, with the same schmoop level as "buddy" or "friend" or "asshole I work with." Matter of fact more than anything else; after all, they go out together, have sex fairly frequently, and discussed being exclusive, even if they decided against it. What else would they be?
To Hei, she says:] This is my buddy Reginald.
Call me Reggie. [not impressed]
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[ Hei's look is impassive as he glances from Korra to the biker. ] Reggie. Right. [ It runs parallel with Whatever. To Korra, ] We were leaving. [ A reminder, not a question. ]
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She smiles at Reggie and tugs him in for a hug.]
It was good seeing you again, Reggie.
[He's still eyeing Hei suspiciously.] Don't be a stranger, Ballbuster.
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[ He lets Korra and Reggie say their goodbyes. Waits until he's gone, before falling into step with Korra. ]
Well. At least all the men in your life aren't creeps. [ Double-edged statement. ]
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What's that supposed to mean?
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It's nothing.
[ Just the ever-cropping mystery of why this girl, who could have her pick of normal, nicey-nice boys, is compelled to hang around him. Childhood neglect. Unsupportive environments. Lack of attention or approval. He isn't sure if it's one, or all -- but it still irks him sometimes. ]
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[ It's a dismissal, but he can't help but feel it's also such a banal remark, as if they've had a little tiff about which restaurant or club, instead of the inherent wrongness of Korra & Hei. ]
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[ Go with the flow, Amber used to say. While that's an impossibility, given Hei's nature, there are moments when it's good advice. Moments when, freed of the messy tangle of past or future, the present can be just shy of perfect. ]