action;

[ Hei exhales, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He feels empty inside, still and desolate. Half wants to open Yin up and crawl into her, to invade her sensorium, be in her mind. Show her how blurred and gray the world is in his eyes. Show her what he thinks about her. Hei deals with lives as currency and bargaining chips. But he also understands that there are many layers and variations to the word Alive. Looking at Yin, something curls dimly in his chest, a vague sort of feeling on the fringes of his awareness. (It's trust, maybe. He trusts her. Values her beyond her potential usefulness as an asset or ally.) ]

[ When he speaks, his expression is soft. Quiet. ]

Because it's just a word. It's your thoughts that make you Yin. Not labels slapped on you by the City.