[ A low hum of assent. There's really nothing else to be said. Switching the device off, he pauses only a moment to slip on a jacket, and his shoes. There's a pause to tiptoe into Pai's room, cat-quiet because his sister is by default a light sleeper, and akways maddeningly curious of his sporadic nighttime absences. The girl sleeps curled up, almost kittenish. She's kicked off the thin blanket; Hei picks it up and lays it over her, then draws a clump of hair out from between her parted lips. (He wonders if she's slipped into some regressive hair-chewing phase while he was in prison, and hopes not.) Smoothing her hair off her brow, ignoring the urge to do anything else, he leaves a stickynote at her bedside if she wakes up and finds him gone. ]
[ Outdoors, a pale glow of moonlight seeps into the sky. Carrying the tray of spinach-cheese-chicken empanadas in a shopper, he sets off through a network of shortcuts to the Beach House. Ordinarily he's less than thrilled about meeting someone, even a lover, on their home territory. Where he's from, those are the ideal stages for a set-up. Most of his time is spent studying the venue top to bottom, calculating escape routes and points for lethal ingress. But the funny thing is, here, he finds less and less reasons to care about those things. He never forgets them; they're imprinted too firmly in his nature. But they buzz comfortably in the background, instead of surfacing to the top like shark's fins. ]
[ At Korra's door, fifteen minutes later, he knocks in a series of sharp raps. ]
voice;
[ A low hum of assent. There's really nothing else to be said. Switching the device off, he pauses only a moment to slip on a jacket, and his shoes. There's a pause to tiptoe into Pai's room, cat-quiet because his sister is by default a light sleeper, and akways maddeningly curious of his sporadic nighttime absences. The girl sleeps curled up, almost kittenish. She's kicked off the thin blanket; Hei picks it up and lays it over her, then draws a clump of hair out from between her parted lips. (He wonders if she's slipped into some regressive hair-chewing phase while he was in prison, and hopes not.) Smoothing her hair off her brow, ignoring the urge to do anything else, he leaves a stickynote at her bedside if she wakes up and finds him gone. ]
[ Outdoors, a pale glow of moonlight seeps into the sky. Carrying the tray of spinach-cheese-chicken empanadas in a shopper, he sets off through a network of shortcuts to the Beach House. Ordinarily he's less than thrilled about meeting someone, even a lover, on their home territory. Where he's from, those are the ideal stages for a set-up. Most of his time is spent studying the venue top to bottom, calculating escape routes and points for lethal ingress. But the funny thing is, here, he finds less and less reasons to care about those things. He never forgets them; they're imprinted too firmly in his nature. But they buzz comfortably in the background, instead of surfacing to the top like shark's fins. ]
[ At Korra's door, fifteen minutes later, he knocks in a series of sharp raps. ]