[ He accepts the Jerk in good part (It's true). Leaning against the wall, arms folded, it takes only a moment for his energy -- discomfort, wariness, doubt -- to settle into a convincing flatline of calm. Quietly, he takes Korra in, the way he couldn't over the Network device previously. She's not wavery and overwrought, like she was during her last visit here. But despite her smile, a throbbing anxiety practically ripples the sunlit air around her. ]
[ He would ask, except it's not his business. As he established earlier, this isn't an assignment; she isn't a mark. He can afford to give her some space, something quiet and easy and pressure-free, even if BK201 rarely operates in that mode without purpose. ]
Does it matter? [ It's a dismissive reply. He's not particularly concerned with lizard's name, as long as it's well-fed and combats the ticking. Other than a pet cat he and Pai had as children (white, Persian, a dark heartshaped mark on its nose) and a few tragedies with goldfish, he's never given pets any thought. ]
[ They symbolize Domesticity and Permanence, and Hei doesn't function that way anymore. ]
Of course it does! [She rolls her eyes at him, but then stops.] Maybe not to you, Mr. Two-Names, but to most people.
[She squats down and rests her arms & chin on the table so she can get a better look at the lizard. She's a little entranced. There had been little reptiles on Air Temple island and around Republic City, but she's never seen anything like this guy before.]
[ There it is again. That Pai-echo. It can't be helped. A young girl quietly thrilled by something as mundane as a lizard? Even though she's slogging in so much filth? At the end of the day, it's not an unfamiliar sight for Hei. (Funny, how Pai can still change the shape and color of his world, the lens through which he sees people, even though she no longer exists.) ]
[ He doesn't offer a riposte to the Two-Names. Instead there's a brief moment's silence, not because he's indifferent; he's just thoughtful. Drifting toward her, he stoops to pick up his glass, ringed darkly with wine lees, before he fixes her with a considering look of his own. It's not too many shades off from the way Korra regards the lizard. ]
You can call me Hei instead of Li, you know.
[ Pavel does. It's strange; he's not used to halfways, but to people who either know nothing of his profession or everything at all. This limbo with Korra and Pavel is completely new. He's not sure if he's tipping it one way or another by offering to let her use his cryptonym. Hei is a mask just as 'Li' and BK201 are, after all. But he's the one that's closest to himself -- fingerprints and dogtags rather than the Reaper's daggers or 'Li's theatrical timidity. ]
[ And Korra's met Hei enough times. She just doesn't have a name to connect to the face. ]
[ The easiest cop-out would be to say he's being tactical, because Hei never makes any offers without strings attached to strangle or manipulate with. It'd be half-true, because that's the way he functions, at least usually. Except none of the Syndicate's rules apply here. He's learning how to yield more each day. Or perhaps just how to be a bit more human. ]
[ It doesn't come easily, any of it. Too many restless moments second-guessing himself, wondering if he's making the right decisions, if he's even built to do this at all, but Hei's never been one for giving up. ]
Hm. [ Straightening, he jerks a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. Perfectly straight-faced, ] Now take the lizard out of the cage. I'll show you how to flay and bake it.
Of course not. [ With absolute conviction. His eyes flick from Korra's face to the lizard's. Its expression is about as communicative as Hei's own. And he bets the temperature would be about the same. Lukewarm. ]
[ N o p e. He gives her that patented Very Serious look, although he's trying not to smile around the edges. If she's so protective of a damn reptile, he wonders how favorably she'll react to the live lobsters. ]
This is my personal twist to the ingredients of seaweed stew.
[Oh, she'll be fine with the lobsters. They're food-shaped. But the lizard reminds her of the stories that Master Katara told her of dragons. You can't eat something that magic.]
[ For what it's worth, he doubts the lizard is magic. More likely crawling with pathogenic bacteria. She clearly doesn't realize the diseases like trichinosis and sparganosis you'd get from supping on an iguana. ]
[ But that's not the point. He hesitates to use the phrase cute when describing her, because he knows Korra would try to punch him in a number of extremely imaginative ways, but right now, the way she scowls up at him is frankly, rather endearing. His hand snakes out to grab her wrist, pulling her in enough to kiss the corner of her mouth -- rough, but almost playful -- before he darts away. ]
All right. [ Not quite a smile, but his tone is relaxed as he turns to head for the kitchen. ] We'll stick to the traditional recipe. For today.
[ In the yellow parallelogram of sunlight spilling in through the window, the silver pots glimmer, heaps of herbs and groceries strewn on the counter. Essentials for the boiled lobster. The dip-sauce. The seaweed stew. The dessert. He lets Korra peer at the spread, her arm a light line of contact against his. Being around her makes him very aware of his own body and the space it takes up, its conjunction to hers, to the kitchen. ]
[ But he can afford to be businesslike, at least on the surface. He's here to teach her how to cook. Not to fool around. ]
I figured you'd start with something simple. Seaweed stew. Pears poached in red wine. And --
[ Crouching, he lifts the cooler onto the kitchen table, popping the lid open. Sprawled in the ice, the lobsters have sunk into a coma-like stasis. He lifts one dark-blue crustacean out, keeping his back to Korra so she can't see the chest's contents. The lobster's shell is icy-cold on his palm, but its pincers still wave sluggishly. Huh. Stubborn little bastard. Dibs on this one, he decides. ]
[ Turning to Korra, he extends the lobster with a half-smile. ] -- And these things.
Simple. Right. [She doesn't look impressed.] Does the word "simple" mean the same thing to you as it does to everybody else?
[But hey, she's not one to back away from a challenge. And if Hei expects her to squeal in horror at the sight of the lobster, he's in for disappointment.]
What is it? A turtle crab?
[She pokes curiously at one of the slowly waving pincers.]
It's easier than it looks. Do everything right, and it won't take more than two hours. [ Here's to hoping. ]
[ In the grand scheme of things, cooking is considerably low on the list of skills he learnt in Heaven's War. But it was a practical tool for a soldier who was always in the flux. (Not to mention more feasible, given his appetite in conjunction to his budget). Besides, kitchen work had always settled his mind. No matter what corner of the world you were in, people had to eat, and he'd long ago learned that he trusted strange food more when he prepared it personally. ]
[ He isn't expecting her to squeal, no. She's not the type. But he enjoys her little frowny faces, a smidge more than he'd care to admit. ]
It's a Maine lobster. [ Which is funny since they're nowhere near Maine. ] I had to do some digging to find it in the Underground. [ His lips quirk. ] Now I'm going to boil it alive and eat it.
[ Side lobster? Oh Jesus Korra. Denmark will be awash in bad sushi by the time even the most benign cultural references stop sailing over your head. ] No. Next time I'll get smaller ones for ...side lobsters. [ Wry but also unbelieveably convincing, which means it's stuffed with enough bullshit to feed a starving household of ten. ]
[ He takes both lobsters out and places them on the counter. They wriggle weakly, claws tied in thick rubber bands, while Hei fills a large pot with water and puts it on the stove at a low flame. At her question, he shakes his head. ]
A lobster's brain is the same as a grasshopper. It's not complex enough to feel pain. [ If you can squash a bug, than you should be able to kill a lobster. ]
[Hey, it's not her fault she comes from a world where Maine doesn't exist!]
Oh. Okay.
[As long as they aren't torturing the creatures, she's cool with that. She pokes idly at the pincers while he heats up the water. (Watching water boil is boring, and at least the lobsters are moving.]
[ Hei adds two tablespoons of salt to the water, a sprintz of squeezed lemon, then turns the flame up higher. Gray wisps of steam rise from the surface. Not quite yet. (They're not going to stare at a pot of boiling water. There's a lot more to do. Korra won't gain anything useful by watching him. She's the type who learns by doing; he's caught that quickly enough. ]
They'll turn bright red. And the feelers will come off easily.
[ He selects a large knife, then places both lobsters on a cutting board. ] Although they can't feel pain, it's a good idea to kill them anyway. [ Not for humane reasons. Just to discourage tail-flips in the pot. ] Sever the 'spinal cord.' Like this -- [ He places the blade in the horizontal groove at the first lobster's head. Slices with a quick, downward force that ends on a neat crunch. Voila. Dead lobster. ]
[ Turning, he offers her the knife, ] Now you do the second one.
[ It's callous, making her wield a blade so soon after that bloodbath with Pavel. But that's exactly why Hei's doing it. He's been raised on a refusal to soft soap himself in any way. Fear takes root in the wake of trauma. But if you expect to survive, it's your job to uproot it and to never let those sickly tendrils spread. Because once you stop trusting your mind or body, once you start freezing up at every little trigger, everything else falls apart too. ]
[ He watches Korra cut the lobster's head. She's businesslike, but imperceptibly trembling around the edges like a sighted deer, unsure, caught in a warp of memory. But when she goes through with it, there's a sense of almost-pride. So young and naive -- but a tough kid. She'll be okay. ]
[ He smiles like he has a secret locked behind the curl of his lips. A casual shift in weight, and then his hand settles around the crook at her elbow. He leans in, the movement telegraphed and careful -- giving her an out if she wants to pull away -- to press a light kiss to her cheek. ]
Quietly: ] Not bad. [ Honest, in his own way. Hand slipping off her elbow, he drifts out of her immediate space in the next blink. In the pot, water bubbles in a haze of steam. Lifting a lobster by the thorax, he lowers it head-first into the pot with a plop. ] Now drop yours in.
[...well consider that sufficient distraction from painful memories. She watches him with wide, surprised eyes as he moves away like he isn't messing with the dynamics of their relationship. Innocent kisses, gestures that for anybody else would simply be displays of affection... he doesn't do that. She doesn't do that, except for the occasional "thank you" or "goodbye" kiss.
Coming over just for cooking lessons. Little kisses leading nowhere. What exactly are they starting with this "start again"?
She banishes the thought, setting it aside to deal with later. It's not a question she wants to avoid, but she wants time to think about it alone, without Hei around to all but read her thoughts. She picks up her lobster, imitating the way he held his, and drops it into the water. She doesn't have his skill, so it splashes a bit, getting drops of boiling water on her arm.]
[ He'd advise her, if he could track her pinwheeling thoughts, not to read too deeply into every which way he handles her. Physicality is a neutral thing for Hei -- all his close touches are manufactured with a purpose behind them. It's no different here. Korra is almost a litmus paper; someone to measure his own rusty humanity, or lack of it, against. Hei's life has been about honing the sharp edges in his nature; now he has to learn to function without them. But for once, it's a choice, not an order. He doesn't quite know what to do with that. ]
[ Having the freedom to make a choice. Being cognizant of the fact that a choice exists. ]
[ That doesn't mean there's no affection there. He's aware what he feels for Korra is more than lust. But it isn't enough at the same time. Not an emotion the way normal people feel it. More like a photocopy; a diluted substitute. But why brood about it? He's beyond that point of his life where he thinks about anything other than where he is. It's too dangerous. The issues between him and Korra will always be like shark's teeth. Knock one out, and there's ten rows waiting to fill in the gap. ]
[ Best to keep it in the moment. Carpe diem etc. ]
[ He glances up as water splashes her arm, eyebrow quirked. Shifts to the sink to turn the tap on, in the same smooth motion. ] Easy. Rinse your hand out. [ It might be a good idea for her to put gloves and an apron on. ]
[Hei's line of thought would be beyond her understanding. She knows that touches can be faked and calculated for an agenda, but she couldn't even begin to guess what that agenda might be.
She obediently puts her hand under the cold tap water. It doesn't hurt much now, but Korra had enough accidents during her water and fire bending training to know that burns are best taken care of before the pain sets in. (On a whim, she tries to use the tap water to pull the heat out. It's one of the first healing techniques Master Katara ever taught her. But the water doesn't respond. It never does.)]
How long does it usually take?
[If any of her disappointment comes through her voice, it's only as a hint of wistfulness, almost imperceptible. Not counting those days when the City taunted her, she hasn't had her bending for almost eight months. She's learned to live without it; the ache is as much a part of her as her heartbeat, and just as easy to ignore.]
[ Hei watches from the corner of his eye as she rinses her hand out. The bright sunlight affords him a view of her hair and the curve of her cheek and the snub of her nose. For a moment she seems to go vague, inward, but he knows better than to press her. Instead he uses that opportunity to observe. All fresh and tawny, with a little touch of puppyish roundness to her face, she's not beautiful, but she is startlingly pretty. He's thought it before too. ]
[ It wouldn't be a temptation on an assignment. He'd have his head in the game, his focus on the straight and narrow. But here, he's interested in more than a good look. ]
[ Knock it off. Cooking lessons. That's what they're here for. ]
[ He covers the lobster-pot and moves to the counter, selecting a pear to place on the cutting board. From a drawer, he retrieves a vegetable peeler. ] They're 3-pound lobsters. Give them about twenty-five to thirty minutes. [ Carefully, he sheers off the bright green skin of the pear with in one unbroken spiral, handing it to her to munch on. ] We'll handle the dessert in the meantime. Then the stew.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Come cook with Li, Bolin >:3
[ He would ask, except it's not his business. As he established earlier, this isn't an assignment; she isn't a mark. He can afford to give her some space, something quiet and easy and pressure-free, even if BK201 rarely operates in that mode without purpose. ]
Does it matter? [ It's a dismissive reply. He's not particularly concerned with lizard's name, as long as it's well-fed and combats the ticking. Other than a pet cat he and Pai had as children (white, Persian, a dark heartshaped mark on its nose) and a few tragedies with goldfish, he's never given pets any thought. ]
[ They symbolize Domesticity and Permanence, and Hei doesn't function that way anymore. ]
Bolin: Okay! :D
[She squats down and rests her arms & chin on the table so she can get a better look at the lizard. She's a little entranced. There had been little reptiles on Air Temple island and around Republic City, but she's never seen anything like this guy before.]
Yeees! Come nom with uuuus~
[ He doesn't offer a riposte to the Two-Names. Instead there's a brief moment's silence, not because he's indifferent; he's just thoughtful. Drifting toward her, he stoops to pick up his glass, ringed darkly with wine lees, before he fixes her with a considering look of his own. It's not too many shades off from the way Korra regards the lizard. ]
You can call me Hei instead of Li, you know.
[ Pavel does. It's strange; he's not used to halfways, but to people who either know nothing of his profession or everything at all. This limbo with Korra and Pavel is completely new. He's not sure if he's tipping it one way or another by offering to let her use his cryptonym. Hei is a mask just as 'Li' and BK201 are, after all. But he's the one that's closest to himself -- fingerprints and dogtags rather than the Reaper's daggers or 'Li's theatrical timidity. ]
[ And Korra's met Hei enough times. She just doesn't have a name to connect to the face. ]
Re: Yeees! Come nom with uuuus~
Okay.
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[ It doesn't come easily, any of it. Too many restless moments second-guessing himself, wondering if he's making the right decisions, if he's even built to do this at all, but Hei's never been one for giving up. ]
Hm. [ Straightening, he jerks a thumb in the direction of the kitchen. Perfectly straight-faced, ] Now take the lizard out of the cage. I'll show you how to flay and bake it.
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You're kidding, right?
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Hurry up. Time doesn't move backwards.
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I thought you were teaching me Water Tribe dishes.
[She may be angling herself a little protectively in front of the reptile.]
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This is my personal twist to the ingredients of seaweed stew.
[ He takes a step closer. ]
Let's get started.
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I don't want to try your "personal twist."
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[ But that's not the point. He hesitates to use the phrase cute when describing her, because he knows Korra would try to punch him in a number of extremely imaginative ways, but right now, the way she scowls up at him is frankly, rather endearing. His hand snakes out to grab her wrist, pulling her in enough to kiss the corner of her mouth -- rough, but almost playful -- before he darts away. ]
All right. [ Not quite a smile, but his tone is relaxed as he turns to head for the kitchen. ] We'll stick to the traditional recipe. For today.
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She follows him to the kitchen, still trying to figure out whether he was joking bout the lizard.]
Good.
[She stands next to him, her arm brushing against his as she peeks at the ingredients.]
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[ But he can afford to be businesslike, at least on the surface. He's here to teach her how to cook. Not to fool around. ]
I figured you'd start with something simple. Seaweed stew. Pears poached in red wine. And --
[ Crouching, he lifts the cooler onto the kitchen table, popping the lid open. Sprawled in the ice, the lobsters have sunk into a coma-like stasis. He lifts one dark-blue crustacean out, keeping his back to Korra so she can't see the chest's contents. The lobster's shell is icy-cold on his palm, but its pincers still wave sluggishly. Huh. Stubborn little bastard. Dibs on this one, he decides. ]
[ Turning to Korra, he extends the lobster with a half-smile. ] -- And these things.
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[But hey, she's not one to back away from a challenge. And if Hei expects her to squeal in horror at the sight of the lobster, he's in for disappointment.]
What is it? A turtle crab?
[She pokes curiously at one of the slowly waving pincers.]
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[ In the grand scheme of things, cooking is considerably low on the list of skills he learnt in Heaven's War. But it was a practical tool for a soldier who was always in the flux. (Not to mention more feasible, given his appetite in conjunction to his budget). Besides, kitchen work had always settled his mind. No matter what corner of the world you were in, people had to eat, and he'd long ago learned that he trusted strange food more when he prepared it personally. ]
[ He isn't expecting her to squeal, no. She's not the type. But he enjoys her little frowny faces, a smidge more than he'd care to admit. ]
It's a Maine lobster. [ Which is funny since they're nowhere near Maine. ] I had to do some digging to find it in the Underground. [ His lips quirk. ] Now I'm going to boil it alive and eat it.
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She does frown when he mentions boiling it alive.]
Isn't that cruel?
[She's always been taught you kill quickly and efficiently, causing the animal as little pain as you possibly can.]
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[ He takes both lobsters out and places them on the counter. They wriggle weakly, claws tied in thick rubber bands, while Hei fills a large pot with water and puts it on the stove at a low flame. At her question, he shakes his head. ]
A lobster's brain is the same as a grasshopper. It's not complex enough to feel pain. [ If you can squash a bug, than you should be able to kill a lobster. ]
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Oh. Okay.
[As long as they aren't torturing the creatures, she's cool with that. She pokes idly at the pincers while he heats up the water. (Watching water boil is boring, and at least the lobsters are moving.]
How do you know when they're done boiling?
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They'll turn bright red. And the feelers will come off easily.
[ He selects a large knife, then places both lobsters on a cutting board. ] Although they can't feel pain, it's a good idea to kill them anyway. [ Not for humane reasons. Just to discourage tail-flips in the pot. ] Sever the 'spinal cord.' Like this -- [ He places the blade in the horizontal groove at the first lobster's head. Slices with a quick, downward force that ends on a neat crunch. Voila. Dead lobster. ]
[ Turning, he offers her the knife, ] Now you do the second one.
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Okay.
[The blade hovers for a moment over the lobster's head. With a deep breath, she slices down. It's a neat job. The lobster dies quickly and painlessly.
Unlike Chekov.
She quickly pushes lobster and knife away, and wipes the clear blood off on her pants. (A part of her expects to see smears of red.)]
What next?
[Just focus on the next step. Step by step, like going through her forms. Don't freak out.]
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[ He watches Korra cut the lobster's head. She's businesslike, but imperceptibly trembling around the edges like a sighted deer, unsure, caught in a warp of memory. But when she goes through with it, there's a sense of almost-pride. So young and naive -- but a tough kid. She'll be okay. ]
[ He smiles like he has a secret locked behind the curl of his lips. A casual shift in weight, and then his hand settles around the crook at her elbow. He leans in, the movement telegraphed and careful -- giving her an out if she wants to pull away -- to press a light kiss to her cheek. ]
Quietly: ] Not bad. [ Honest, in his own way. Hand slipping off her elbow, he drifts out of her immediate space in the next blink. In the pot, water bubbles in a haze of steam. Lifting a lobster by the thorax, he lowers it head-first into the pot with a plop. ] Now drop yours in.
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Coming over just for cooking lessons. Little kisses leading nowhere. What exactly are they starting with this "start again"?
She banishes the thought, setting it aside to deal with later. It's not a question she wants to avoid, but she wants time to think about it alone, without Hei around to all but read her thoughts. She picks up her lobster, imitating the way he held his, and drops it into the water. She doesn't have his skill, so it splashes a bit, getting drops of boiling water on her arm.]
Ow!
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[ Having the freedom to make a choice. Being cognizant of the fact that a choice exists. ]
[ That doesn't mean there's no affection there. He's aware what he feels for Korra is more than lust. But it isn't enough at the same time. Not an emotion the way normal people feel it. More like a photocopy; a diluted substitute. But why brood about it? He's beyond that point of his life where he thinks about anything other than where he is. It's too dangerous. The issues between him and Korra will always be like shark's teeth. Knock one out, and there's ten rows waiting to fill in the gap. ]
[ Best to keep it in the moment. Carpe diem etc. ]
[ He glances up as water splashes her arm, eyebrow quirked. Shifts to the sink to turn the tap on, in the same smooth motion. ] Easy. Rinse your hand out. [ It might be a good idea for her to put gloves and an apron on. ]
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She obediently puts her hand under the cold tap water. It doesn't hurt much now, but Korra had enough accidents during her water and fire bending training to know that burns are best taken care of before the pain sets in. (On a whim, she tries to use the tap water to pull the heat out. It's one of the first healing techniques Master Katara ever taught her. But the water doesn't respond. It never does.)]
How long does it usually take?
[If any of her disappointment comes through her voice, it's only as a hint of wistfulness, almost imperceptible. Not counting those days when the City taunted her, she hasn't had her bending for almost eight months. She's learned to live without it; the ache is as much a part of her as her heartbeat, and just as easy to ignore.]
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[ It wouldn't be a temptation on an assignment. He'd have his head in the game, his focus on the straight and narrow. But here, he's interested in more than a good look. ]
[ Knock it off. Cooking lessons. That's what they're here for. ]
[ He covers the lobster-pot and moves to the counter, selecting a pear to place on the cutting board. From a drawer, he retrieves a vegetable peeler. ] They're 3-pound lobsters. Give them about twenty-five to thirty minutes. [ Carefully, he sheers off the bright green skin of the pear with in one unbroken spiral, handing it to her to munch on. ] We'll handle the dessert in the meantime. Then the stew.
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