[ Honesty is a dead sport in Hei's profession. Nothing more than a cover for a lie. Korra isn't like that, and perhaps that's what he finds so attractive. Refreshing, really, when he's been surrounded by schemers and cut-throats and gameplayers for so long. He's wrapped himself up in deception, hidden behind mask after mask, lie after lie, yet there's so little deceitful about her. She tries to hide her weak-spots, but not from him. Concurrently, he knows what Korra sees, and who Korra thinks she is curled against. He is locked inside his own body, unreachable, yet Korra is coming close to him inch by inch. ]

[ There are few he can say that about. Too few. ]

[ Eyes slipping shut, he takes a drowsy whiff of her hair, its scent augmenting his ruefulness but comforting him too. Kisses along her jaw and neck, not a demand for anything, but for the simple contact. ]

I am. That's the thing. [ More quietly, ] Don't hole yourself up because you think that's the only way to get stronger. Or because your pride thinks you have to grub along like a reptile. [ Don't be me, in other words. ] They're mighty survivors. But they die alone and crippled for a reason.