I don't need you making excuses for him. [What could Marie's side of the story possibly be? "I hated the sound of her voice, so I shot her." "I didn't like the song she was singing, so I shot her." "I tripped on a rock and I shot her. Then I tripped on another rock and shot her again." (Korra's not particularly imaginative, particularly when she's upset.)]
[ Frost has formed on the surface of Hei's voice, and his face is the same, distant and fatally cold. It chafes at his patience, getting tangled up in all these teenaged dramas, their stupidities and recklessness and self-absorption. But he doesn't know if he can withdraw into the privacy of his own mind. (Tonight? Later? Anymore?) After all, anybody can tumble into his life again if they're so inclined, and ring the doorbell even as he's trying to bar the door of his sympathies shut. It's strange. What's never bothered him before, does now. He's used to feeling his indifference around him like a suit of armor or a giant phone cubicle -- a structure containing only him inside. Now he's forced to consider his time in the City as a network of dwellings, a honeycomb of competing lives. ]
[ He doesn't like it, and it shows in the terseness of his words. ]
Delacroix is crazy. But there's a reason for that. Just because I don't care about her sob-story, doesn't mean Pavel will do the same.
Well I don't care either. [She would if she actually heard it. She can't harden her heart to the pain she sees, no matter what's been done to her. (She forgave Tarrlok, after all.) But as long as she doesn't know, she doesn't care, and she doesn't want to care.
And if you're gonna get all pissy at her, you can just leave. She doesn't want to deal with your wintery temper on top of everything else, and she's not about to jump through hoops to make your Big Bad Mood go away.]
[ His look is still removed and cold as an Arctic wasteland; white as far as the eye can see. But that's not aimed at Korra. Just Hei's default state of being -- especially when he's tired or fed-up. He doesn't expect her to do anything other than what she wants to. If Hei functions on cool self-sovereignty, then Korra certainly does the same. But that's not always the smart choice. Sometimes when he was younger, Amber used to tell him Feelings aren't facts, Hei. Which was, he supposed, something any soldier ought to learn. Even though it wasn't quite accurate. If they were large enough, hard enough, feelings were facts. Not to be swept away with a couple of rationalizations, however pertinent. ]
[ Still, it was irksome. Maybe he expected Korra to be a little above the pettiness, even as he's aware of how vindictive and small-minded human beings truly are. Rising, he dusts the leaves off his clothes, not meeting her eyes. ]
Do as you please, Avatar Korra. [ Formal and deliberate. It's not to rub anything in her face. Simply a reminder that if she's so obsessed with being the Avatar, she needs to own it. That includes exercising impartiality and clear-headedness. Hei can't tell her what to feel. But he can ask her to be objective, because it'd be a pity if this promising girl was crushed under the burning weight of her own temper and bad choices. A pity if she ended up ... like him. ]
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[ Frost has formed on the surface of Hei's voice, and his face is the same, distant and fatally cold. It chafes at his patience, getting tangled up in all these teenaged dramas, their stupidities and recklessness and self-absorption. But he doesn't know if he can withdraw into the privacy of his own mind. (Tonight? Later? Anymore?) After all, anybody can tumble into his life again if they're so inclined, and ring the doorbell even as he's trying to bar the door of his sympathies shut. It's strange. What's never bothered him before, does now. He's used to feeling his indifference around him like a suit of armor or a giant phone cubicle -- a structure containing only him inside. Now he's forced to consider his time in the City as a network of dwellings, a honeycomb of competing lives. ]
[ He doesn't like it, and it shows in the terseness of his words. ]
Delacroix is crazy. But there's a reason for that. Just because I don't care about her sob-story, doesn't mean Pavel will do the same.
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And if you're gonna get all pissy at her, you can just leave. She doesn't want to deal with your wintery temper on top of everything else, and she's not about to jump through hoops to make your Big Bad Mood go away.]
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[ His look is still removed and cold as an Arctic wasteland; white as far as the eye can see. But that's not aimed at Korra. Just Hei's default state of being -- especially when he's tired or fed-up. He doesn't expect her to do anything other than what she wants to. If Hei functions on cool self-sovereignty, then Korra certainly does the same. But that's not always the smart choice. Sometimes when he was younger, Amber used to tell him Feelings aren't facts, Hei. Which was, he supposed, something any soldier ought to learn. Even though it wasn't quite accurate. If they were large enough, hard enough, feelings were facts. Not to be swept away with a couple of rationalizations, however pertinent. ]
[ Still, it was irksome. Maybe he expected Korra to be a little above the pettiness, even as he's aware of how vindictive and small-minded human beings truly are. Rising, he dusts the leaves off his clothes, not meeting her eyes. ]
Do as you please, Avatar Korra. [ Formal and deliberate. It's not to rub anything in her face. Simply a reminder that if she's so obsessed with being the Avatar, she needs to own it. That includes exercising impartiality and clear-headedness. Hei can't tell her what to feel. But he can ask her to be objective, because it'd be a pity if this promising girl was crushed under the burning weight of her own temper and bad choices. A pity if she ended up ... like him. ]
[ He doesn't say that. He just exits the scene. ]