[Brief as it is, his touch makes her heart do a funny little skip. He can't be blamed for misstepping; he doesn't know about Tarrlok. He only has fragments of her history, a broken map of her sore points and insecurities.
She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, and gives him a look that's equal parts amused and unimpressed.]
After last time? I think we'd be better off somewhere without ghosts.
[ Without ghosts. For a moment the words resonate strangely. Hei glances at her with seeming incomprehension, his gaze going vague and distant. In that split-second his face is caught in an honest reflection of his inner-world. There's nothing but ghosts everywhere I look. The surrealism of it fills both his dreams and waking thoughts. But he knows better than to play King Of the Hill with that pain. Better to keep it under lock-and-key, to let it out at a better time. In a fight, during a chase, where he can channel all that self-recrimination and wrath into ironclad resolve. ]
[ It's how he's survived so far, and what's kept him one step ahead of his opponents. ]
In that case, [ he searches for a venue that won't come with a trailer of baggage. Except that's easier said than done. Boo fucking hoo. Suck it up and move on. He sets some money on the table and hauls himself to his feet, hands slipping into his coat pockets, eyes fixed on hers. ] Follow me.
[Speaking of missteps....... He may have a broken map of her inner world, but she has nothing more than a candle's view of his, little better than walking blind. She doesn't understand what she said to make him go vague, and it's gone so quickly that she wonders if she simply imagined it. Does it matter either way? It's not like she can help him.
She stands and walks quickly to catch up. She doesn't try to touch him, but she walks closely enough for their arms to brush every few steps.]
[ She can't help him, no. She's not Pai -- there's no solid pavement between them of mutual suffering, no bloodbond or deathbond that makes them as familiar and easy as twins. But there's enough pain and antagonism between him and Korra than distills itself into a good-enough closeness. In a way, Hei knows the fragmented intimacy is worse than none at all, because if BK201'a curse is to be alone, to bring ruin to everyone tied to him, then he should be alone, no sparks of sunshine in the dark. Korra is just an excursionist in his solitude. One way or another, she'll exit back to her brighter life, and Hei will return to his, outside the City. A life where half his team is dead and the survivors are eddying around him, where he's surrounded by civilians who'll never really understand him, not be allowed to get too close, because that is his life, tasked to keep everyone else at an arm's length. ]
[ How depressing. He should just send Korra back home and tell her not to see him again. ]
[ Instead he tucks her hand into his coat pocket. The gesture is so natural it unnerves him. ] You'll see. [ He has his sights set on a particular hotel near the Casino. It's a spot he thinks of as his type of place -- neat, anonymous and private. In many ways: perfect. ]
[The impossibility of understanding and the pain of self-imposed isolation are, mercifully, far from her thoughts. She'll take this moment for all that it's worth.
She lets him take her hand and squeezes it gently.]
You've just got to make everything a secret, don't you?
[ Hei tries not to draw comparisons to the numerous times he's used love hotels as expedient safe-houses back home. With about ten thousand of them in Tokyo, enemies might suspect their quarry of hiding in one. But with no credit card required for registration, and fake names the norm, it'd take ages for them to track him down. Of course, that's not the case here. He's checking into a hotel for no reason but the obvious one. To civilians it might seem illicit and risque. But for Hei, the very straightforwardness of the fact makes it remarkably innocent. ]
"The real secrets are not the ones I tell," [ is his only answer, and to anybody else it might sound like a terse blow-off, but Hei is always adept at seeming one thing and being another. He's sure that Korra knows that too by now, in her own way. Lightly, he presses her hand and steers her to a street lined with tall buildings. Guides her straight into one, through heavy revolving doors that exhale warmth and light at every rotation, and into a wood-paneled lobby. ]
[He reminds her sometimes of Tenzin's stupid koans -- deliberately obtuse, meant to be contemplated but never actually understood. She makes a face at his predictably oblique response.
She leans a little into him as they walk inside, not looking down but not looking at anyone else in the lobby either. There's such a large space between the decision to act and the ability to act; it leaves too much time for thought and self-consciousness.
At least she's spared the nasty looks of Hei's neighbors. But she'll be glad when they're somewhere private.]
[ In Hei's experience, inviting a stranger into your space was often more of an intimate act than the sex itself. (In his profession, it's also often a foolish mistake. You can never be sure the other person is who they claim to be. ((Indeed, wasn't the whole point of a one-nighter to pretend you could be anyone but yourself?)) ) Except that's not his reason for picking the hotel. His apartment has no more homelike an atmosphere than an anonymous room does. But it's more convenient, more out-of-the-way. Less of a pattern that runs the risk of becoming a routine. ]
[ The fact that the walls here are soundproofed is an added bonus. ]
[ At the desk, the old man barely glances up as Hei pays for the night and signs some silly assumed name. In the mirrored elevator, he wants to kiss Korra; his skin feels hot where her fingers are curled around it. But the cart isn't unoccupied; glancing sideways at the mirror, he can see the reflection of one solitary guy doing something weird -- head tilted at an angle, eyes closed, nibbling at the air. Blearily, Hei stares at this odd reflection for a few moments before craning around to get a first-hand look at the man himself. ]
[ Hei takes in Korra's reaction and huffs -- not a laugh but a mild exhale tinged with amusement. Strange, how she's spent so many months working Underground, but remains oblivious to this feature about the garden-variety bloodsuckers. When the vampire and his squeeze get off at the sixteenth floor, he leans in to murmur in her ear, ]
It's rude to stare.
[ He doesn't really give her a chance to respond, though. Instead he tips her chin up in one hand to move his lips from her ear toward her mouth. It's not a particularly sweet kiss (he doesn't know how to do sweet. Doesn't know a lot of things anymore, in the wake of Heaven's War) but it's hungry and honest in its rough intensity, as he winds one arm around her shoulders, gripping the material of that childish hoodie tight in his fist, bending Korra's head back with the force of his mouth. He seems to imbibe her warmth like a spoonful of an illicit treat. Gorging on enough to be dizzy, bite after bite, after days of restraint. ] ]
[ He doesn't let go until the elevator chimes at the top floor. ]
[But but but WEEEEEIRD! (Not a lot of vampires in her bar) Her protest is lost in his mouth, and she finds that she doesn't really care. It's been two aching weeks and the only thing she wants is to feel him. Her hands grip his waist, pulling him closer. She hears the ding of the elevator but ignores it as irrelevant until he pulls away. She scowls at him with a little whimper of protest. What is he doing?!
Oh. Right. They've reached their floor. She can't help laughing a little at herself -- the combination of exhaustion and arousal is its own kind of intoxication -- before yanking him back in. She backs out of the elevator, lips locked against his, unwilling to concede an inch of ground.]
[ Feisty. Hei's half-smile fits against Korra's, edging at playful as he makes a noise into their kiss, something trapped partways between a growl and a hum. He lets her steer him out without protest, opening his mouth wider against hers only to gasp and to press in more of those searching, sucking kisses. Korra probably doesn't even realize the way she kisses him has changed. Shy sloppy puppy licks slipping into something smoother, something that's challenging and heady in equal turns. Under the dim lights, the long corridor smells vaguely antiseptic. Hei edges her toward the last door, not stumbling, keeping his direction on a straight course. (So many areas in which his training proves useful). ]
[ Backing her against the wall, he lets his hands drop to her waist, palms smoothing down the curve and dip of spine before he splays them over her rear to pull her hips in tight, his thigh fitted between hers. Yes, he does have plans to open the door, but right now he's too preoccupied with licking into her mouth while trying to fish the keycard out from his pocket one-handed. Give him a minute -- it's not exactly the best situation for full concentration. ]
[He can take as long as he wants as long as he doesn't move that thigh of his. She leans her shoulders back against the wall, giving herself better leverage to grind against him. Her legs squeeze his in a crushing grip.
Puffs of chilly air sneak through her loose hoody to hit bare skin at erratic intervals, and she just feels more aware of everything. The unfamiliar texture of her bra, how the patterned part rubs against the tops of her breasts while her nipples press out against smooth silk; the slight burn of his stubble on her chin, and the way she can catch find tastes of his last meal in their kiss.
Halfway down the hall, she can hear a door open and someone step out. For once she doesn't care. Let him watch if wants; he'll get a great show. Everything she cares about is pressed against her, sending waves of electricity to every extremity.
[ Hei dimly registers the door opening, and the tread of footsteps in the distance. Instead of nearing, they fade, which suits him fine. He's too keyed up, spilling over with filthy ideas and filthier sensations. He lets his thigh wedge tighter between Korra's tensed legs, rocking it in a slow back and forth motion that presses the thick center seam of her jeans tight against her. The fuzzy material of her hoodie makes his palm tingle; he runs his hand from her nape to the top of her jeans, then forward: sliding it along the ribs, cupping it over her breast, his thumb brushing the nipple through the layers of fabric. ]
[ He does find the keycard eventually, the door clicking open with a dull beep, and there's more urgency than finesse in the way he repockets it, fingers rough as he steers Korra into the room. He kicks the door shut with his heel, then leans back against it, pulling her so she falls against him, pressing her body into his. He gnaws her neck, licking his way slowly from her jawline to her ear. Traces his tongue around the rim before he breathes gently on it, a hot-cold rush of air. ]
[ Dizzy, he draws back a moment to regard her, lips in the faint shape of a smirk. It would be easy to let this escalate -- a repeat of their usual wild, messy, incoherent encounters. But he's in no particular rush. When he meant an all-nighter, he was serious. They have time. ]
[Is that a faint sensation of disappointment when the footsteps leave instead of coming closer? Hei gets the door open and she decides not to think about it. She bites her lip, fighting back little whimpers as his mouth carves a path up her neck. Her body feels empty and aching where his thigh used to be; her hips rock against his in a silent plea.]
What? [She leans forward to nip at his smirk. She likes the promises it hints at.]
[ The friction of her warm body, the whisper of her clothes against his, fills his sensorium; Hei is suddenly aware of how cool his coat is against her, how still his body alongside her restless one. Now that he's letting himself, now that they're alone, he's forcibly tamped down that flare of heat bubbling under the surface of his skin. His eyes slip half-shut at the scrape of her teeth, but he's intent on his resolution of going slow. In reply to her What? he kisses her again, but without hurry or escalation, with time to taste her and feel the heat of her mouth, the softness of her tongue. His arms are behind her back again, reaching around so he can stroke the sides of her breasts -- just a fleeting brush of fingertips. ]
[ The kiss is indulged for a long moment, long enough to let her go breathless under his mouth, and then he pulls away. One hand slips to her wrist. He tugs firmly, murmuring, ]
Come on.
[ Far be it for him to fuck anyone in a hotel room -- without logging its details first. ]
[So that's how he wants to play it, huh? She lets herself melt against him, the spikes of electricity turning into still pools of heat. When he pulls back, she takes a deep, shuddering breath and blinks rapidly to try and clear her vision.]
Okay.
[She follows him further inside and looks around. The room looks more homey than either his apartment or her bedroom. It's a tacky, half-assed effort, but Korra's unfamiliar with the universal banality of hotel rooms. She slides her wrist out of his hand so she can link their fingers.]
[ Tacky, yes, like most of the hotels Underground -- but Hei is used to worse. At least it's not as over-the-top as the Rabu Hoteru in Tokyo, complete with theme rooms sporting Olympian baths and Americana kitsch. Hybrids between Disneyland and bordellos, those. He lets Korra's warm fingers curl with his as he scans the interior. The bedroom faces two walls that are made of window, the lamplight dim so their reflection against the glass won't obscure the twinkling view of the Circus Carnivore. Hei takes a moment to log the layout before appreciating the panorama outside. Only civilians wouldn't bother assessing their immediate space but gush over the scenery. Idiots. ]
[ In the bathroom, the white fixtures -- the whole damn bathroom is white white white -- are bright enough to hurt the eyes. The tub -- an enormous jacuzzi -- is in a smaller room that smells of cedar and vanilla. One wall here is floor-to-ceiling glass too, the shiny tiles of the floor inlaid with mosaic art nouveau designs, instead of the usual Grecian maidens playing lyres and froliking with satyrs. A small mercy. ]
[ All in all, nothing dramatically fancy. But it'll do. ]
[ Glancing at Korra, Hei raises an eyebrow, ] Let's try the tub out. [ He's only ever had sex once in a jacuzzi. (It was awful -- too many slippery surfaces and accidental bumps.) But in this case, he has more of a hot soak in mind. ]
[It actually reminds her of the Sato mansion in some ways. Which seems appropriate, since the underwear she's wearing seems much more Asami's style. She quirks a little smile, tinged with wistfulness, thinking about her long missing friend.]
I've never used a tub like this before. [Baths weren't a thing in the South Pole; it was too cold for them to be safe. When her bending training made them necessary, Korra would use her waterbending to very quickly wash herself off and just as quickly get dry again. In the warmer climate of Republic City, she got used to using bathhouses, and in the City she quickly adjusted to frequent showers. A private pool like this seems almost ridiculously decadent.]
[ The confession gets a raised eyebrow until he remembers: Right. South Pole. A mental image always comes to him in these moments, probably wildly inaccurate but vivid, of turreted igloos and sparse roads across a frozen tundra, a town of thickly-swaddled inuits guarded by wooden spires of boundary walls. He'll have to ask her for clarifying details at some point. To Korra, he says only, ] You'll doze off in a minute. It's just lots of gurgling and splashing.
[ Dimly, he thinks she'd have enjoyed the hot springs he'd once visited an age ago, in his own homeworld. Craters of lava rock, fed by a constant natural surge of hot water and sulfurous mist, out in Reykjavik. You could swim there even as the snow fell and the temperatures dropped to 0º C -- wonderfully warm, shrouded in mist, buoyed by the hot water. ]
[ He lets the tub fill as he steps out of his shoes, the tiles cool beneath his bare feet. He's long made his peace with physicalities, so there's no fuss to the way he undresses; he strips off his coat, his shirt, then sloughs off his jeans, clothes piled up neatly and set on the rack at the corner. In his shorts, he pauses at the bathroom doorway to regard Korra, ] Strip. I'll get drinks. [ Yes, he is deliberately ignoring all medical advice about alcohol in hot tubs. The small indoor bar -- stocked but likely obnoxiously pricey -- is nonetheless something he plans to make use of. ]
[ (The idea of what Korra might have on under her hoodie and jeans doesn't even occur to him.) ]
I didn't know putting me to sleep was on the agenda tonight.
[She'd start undressing herself, but she gets distracted watching him. She leans against the counter and admires the view, her eyes tracing scars both old and unfamiliar. She blushes a little when he's finished, a little embarrassed to be caught staring.]
Uh, yeah.
[He walks out and she tugs off the hoodie before leaning down to undo her boots. She'll be shimmying out of her jeans by the time he comes back.]
[ There's no snarky reply to her first remark. But Hei's half-smile treads the line between predatory and playful. Sleep isn't on the schedule tonight. He pretends not to notice the way her eyes wander; he's too comfortable with the physical edge of the spectrum not to know what he's got, or to be ashamed of it. It's not arrogance but matter-of-factness. His body is just another tool for the trade, but he has no vanity or impulse to cherish it (The opposite, really). ]
[ At the gleaming cart in the corner bar, he finds a dark bottle of syrah wine. (Maybe someone in the hotel has unplumbed depths?) He doesn't bother with flutes or broad-bowled glasses. Just uncorks the bottle -- repressing a wince at how similar the sound is to gunfire -- and returns to the bathroom. At the doorway, leaning shoulder against the jamb, he opens his mouth to speak -- but stops midway. Fuck. ]
Um...
[ Congratulations. The ensemble -- chosen by him but conveniently forgotten up until now -- nixes words. Rooted to the spot, he can only stare. ]
[Korra stops folding her jeans and straightens to look at him.]
Huh? Oh. [The underwear. She sets the pants aside and, for lack of anything better to do, puts her hands on her hips. She's never seen him dumbfounded before. It makes her blush and fills her with a tingly heat.]
[ Which is to say he only chose the ones he figured would suit her. He just wasn't prepared for how well. The dark blue lingerie is so lacy that he can half-see her nipples and the dark scrim of hair through the silk. The effect literally discombobulates him. He's always thought of her allure as something secret, something that gets lost in the zest and brashness of 18 year old gaucherie. Something you have to look hard at to perceive, where others -- maybe even Korra herself -- overlook it. The few glimpses of her in her usual plain-and-practical get-ups don't prepare him for the full effect of Korra in something more elaborate. She barely resembles the anxious scowly girl with the dangling hair and bright eyes he'd first met. ]
[ Swallowing, Hei steps forward. Whatever unflattering shock he feels at her appearance, he hides. Not her fault he was too closed-off to see her as beautiful instead of Cute. His fingers are light against her shoulders, torn between disbelief and wanting to trace his hands over the warm fabric, to find hotter climes. ] You look amazing. [ As far as compliments go, this is tepid. He's capable of more elaborate ones. But for now he simply takes her in, while all the blood abandons his brain to go straight to his groin. Melting on sight. ]
Wow. An actual compliment. [The sarcasm is a poor attempt to cover her pleasure. She doesn't often get that kind of compliment from anyone, least of all him. The rarity doesn't bother her -- all things considered, she'd rather get recognition for her skills -- but the novelty gives it a special shine.]
Thank you. [She reaches down to take hold of him. It's one part a show of appreciation and two parts taking advantage of an opportunity to rattle him more.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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She leans forward, resting her elbows on the table, and gives him a look that's equal parts amused and unimpressed.]
After last time? I think we'd be better off somewhere without ghosts.
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[ It's how he's survived so far, and what's kept him one step ahead of his opponents. ]
In that case, [ he searches for a venue that won't come with a trailer of baggage. Except that's easier said than done. Boo fucking hoo. Suck it up and move on. He sets some money on the table and hauls himself to his feet, hands slipping into his coat pockets, eyes fixed on hers. ] Follow me.
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She stands and walks quickly to catch up. She doesn't try to touch him, but she walks closely enough for their arms to brush every few steps.]
Where are we going?
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[ How depressing. He should just send Korra back home and tell her not to see him again. ]
[ Instead he tucks her hand into his coat pocket. The gesture is so natural it unnerves him. ] You'll see. [ He has his sights set on a particular hotel near the Casino. It's a spot he thinks of as his type of place -- neat, anonymous and private. In many ways: perfect. ]
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She lets him take her hand and squeezes it gently.]
You've just got to make everything a secret, don't you?
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"The real secrets are not the ones I tell," [ is his only answer, and to anybody else it might sound like a terse blow-off, but Hei is always adept at seeming one thing and being another. He's sure that Korra knows that too by now, in her own way. Lightly, he presses her hand and steers her to a street lined with tall buildings. Guides her straight into one, through heavy revolving doors that exhale warmth and light at every rotation, and into a wood-paneled lobby. ]
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She leans a little into him as they walk inside, not looking down but not looking at anyone else in the lobby either. There's such a large space between the decision to act and the ability to act; it leaves too much time for thought and self-consciousness.
At least she's spared the nasty looks of Hei's neighbors. But she'll be glad when they're somewhere private.]
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[ The fact that the walls here are soundproofed is an added bonus. ]
[ At the desk, the old man barely glances up as Hei pays for the night and signs some silly assumed name. In the mirrored elevator, he wants to kiss Korra; his skin feels hot where her fingers are curled around it. But the cart isn't unoccupied; glancing sideways at the mirror, he can see the reflection of one solitary guy doing something weird -- head tilted at an angle, eyes closed, nibbling at the air. Blearily, Hei stares at this odd reflection for a few moments before craning around to get a first-hand look at the man himself. ]
[ Oh. ]
[ Just some guy making out with a vampire. ]
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WHY DOESN'T THAT PERSON HAVE A REFLECTION?!?!?!]
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It's rude to stare.
[ He doesn't really give her a chance to respond, though. Instead he tips her chin up in one hand to move his lips from her ear toward her mouth. It's not a particularly sweet kiss (he doesn't know how to do sweet. Doesn't know a lot of things anymore, in the wake of Heaven's War) but it's hungry and honest in its rough intensity, as he winds one arm around her shoulders, gripping the material of that childish hoodie tight in his fist, bending Korra's head back with the force of his mouth. He seems to imbibe her warmth like a spoonful of an illicit treat. Gorging on enough to be dizzy, bite after bite, after days of restraint. ]
]
[ He doesn't let go until the elevator chimes at the top floor. ]
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Oh. Right. They've reached their floor. She can't help laughing a little at herself -- the combination of exhaustion and arousal is its own kind of intoxication -- before yanking him back in. She backs out of the elevator, lips locked against his, unwilling to concede an inch of ground.]
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[ Backing her against the wall, he lets his hands drop to her waist, palms smoothing down the curve and dip of spine before he splays them over her rear to pull her hips in tight, his thigh fitted between hers. Yes, he does have plans to open the door, but right now he's too preoccupied with licking into her mouth while trying to fish the keycard out from his pocket one-handed. Give him a minute -- it's not exactly the best situation for full concentration. ]
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Puffs of chilly air sneak through her loose hoody to hit bare skin at erratic intervals, and she just feels more aware of everything. The unfamiliar texture of her bra, how the patterned part rubs against the tops of her breasts while her nipples press out against smooth silk; the slight burn of his stubble on her chin, and the way she can catch find tastes of his last meal in their kiss.
Halfway down the hall, she can hear a door open and someone step out. For once she doesn't care. Let him watch if wants; he'll get a great show. Everything she cares about is pressed against her, sending waves of electricity to every extremity.
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[ He does find the keycard eventually, the door clicking open with a dull beep, and there's more urgency than finesse in the way he repockets it, fingers rough as he steers Korra into the room. He kicks the door shut with his heel, then leans back against it, pulling her so she falls against him, pressing her body into his. He gnaws her neck, licking his way slowly from her jawline to her ear. Traces his tongue around the rim before he breathes gently on it, a hot-cold rush of air. ]
[ Dizzy, he draws back a moment to regard her, lips in the faint shape of a smirk. It would be easy to let this escalate -- a repeat of their usual wild, messy, incoherent encounters. But he's in no particular rush. When he meant an all-nighter, he was serious. They have time. ]
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What? [She leans forward to nip at his smirk. She likes the promises it hints at.]
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[ The kiss is indulged for a long moment, long enough to let her go breathless under his mouth, and then he pulls away. One hand slips to her wrist. He tugs firmly, murmuring, ]
Come on.
[ Far be it for him to fuck anyone in a hotel room -- without logging its details first. ]
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Okay.
[She follows him further inside and looks around. The room looks more homey than either his apartment or her bedroom. It's a tacky, half-assed effort, but Korra's unfamiliar with the universal banality of hotel rooms. She slides her wrist out of his hand so she can link their fingers.]
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[ In the bathroom, the white fixtures -- the whole damn bathroom is white white white -- are bright enough to hurt the eyes. The tub -- an enormous jacuzzi -- is in a smaller room that smells of cedar and vanilla. One wall here is floor-to-ceiling glass too, the shiny tiles of the floor inlaid with mosaic art nouveau designs, instead of the usual Grecian maidens playing lyres and froliking with satyrs. A small mercy. ]
[ All in all, nothing dramatically fancy. But it'll do. ]
[ Glancing at Korra, Hei raises an eyebrow, ] Let's try the tub out. [ He's only ever had sex once in a jacuzzi. (It was awful -- too many slippery surfaces and accidental bumps.) But in this case, he has more of a hot soak in mind. ]
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I've never used a tub like this before. [Baths weren't a thing in the South Pole; it was too cold for them to be safe. When her bending training made them necessary, Korra would use her waterbending to very quickly wash herself off and just as quickly get dry again. In the warmer climate of Republic City, she got used to using bathhouses, and in the City she quickly adjusted to frequent showers. A private pool like this seems almost ridiculously decadent.]
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[ Dimly, he thinks she'd have enjoyed the hot springs he'd once visited an age ago, in his own homeworld. Craters of lava rock, fed by a constant natural surge of hot water and sulfurous mist, out in Reykjavik. You could swim there even as the snow fell and the temperatures dropped to 0º C -- wonderfully warm, shrouded in mist, buoyed by the hot water. ]
[ He lets the tub fill as he steps out of his shoes, the tiles cool beneath his bare feet. He's long made his peace with physicalities, so there's no fuss to the way he undresses; he strips off his coat, his shirt, then sloughs off his jeans, clothes piled up neatly and set on the rack at the corner. In his shorts, he pauses at the bathroom doorway to regard Korra, ] Strip. I'll get drinks. [ Yes, he is deliberately ignoring all medical advice about alcohol in hot tubs. The small indoor bar -- stocked but likely obnoxiously pricey -- is nonetheless something he plans to make use of. ]
[ (The idea of what Korra might have on under her hoodie and jeans doesn't even occur to him.) ]
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[She'd start undressing herself, but she gets distracted watching him. She leans against the counter and admires the view, her eyes tracing scars both old and unfamiliar. She blushes a little when he's finished, a little embarrassed to be caught staring.]
Uh, yeah.
[He walks out and she tugs off the hoodie before leaning down to undo her boots. She'll be shimmying out of her jeans by the time he comes back.]
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[ At the gleaming cart in the corner bar, he finds a dark bottle of syrah wine. (Maybe someone in the hotel has unplumbed depths?) He doesn't bother with flutes or broad-bowled glasses. Just uncorks the bottle -- repressing a wince at how similar the sound is to gunfire -- and returns to the bathroom. At the doorway, leaning shoulder against the jamb, he opens his mouth to speak -- but stops midway. Fuck. ]
Um...
[ Congratulations. The ensemble -- chosen by him but conveniently forgotten up until now -- nixes words. Rooted to the spot, he can only stare. ]
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Huh? Oh. [The underwear. She sets the pants aside and, for lack of anything better to do, puts her hands on her hips. She's never seen him dumbfounded before. It makes her blush and fills her with a tingly heat.]
You've got good taste.
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Catalogue.
[ Which is to say he only chose the ones he figured would suit her. He just wasn't prepared for how well. The dark blue lingerie is so lacy that he can half-see her nipples and the dark scrim of hair through the silk. The effect literally discombobulates him. He's always thought of her allure as something secret, something that gets lost in the zest and brashness of 18 year old gaucherie. Something you have to look hard at to perceive, where others -- maybe even Korra herself -- overlook it. The few glimpses of her in her usual plain-and-practical get-ups don't prepare him for the full effect of Korra in something more elaborate. She barely resembles the anxious scowly girl with the dangling hair and bright eyes he'd first met. ]
[ Swallowing, Hei steps forward. Whatever unflattering shock he feels at her appearance, he hides. Not her fault he was too closed-off to see her as beautiful instead of Cute. His fingers are light against her shoulders, torn between disbelief and wanting to trace his hands over the warm fabric, to find hotter climes. ] You look amazing. [ As far as compliments go, this is tepid. He's capable of more elaborate ones. But for now he simply takes her in, while all the blood abandons his brain to go straight to his groin. Melting on sight. ]
[ Well. Other parts are the opposite of melted. ]
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Thank you. [She reaches down to take hold of him. It's one part a show of appreciation and two parts taking advantage of an opportunity to rattle him more.]
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action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
Re: action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;
action;