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[mortemscintilla]

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[mortemscintilla]

[ Eyes pinned to the screen, Hei swallows. His pulse jumps, and he feels that hot hard surge of bloodrush arrowing south. The bite of his nails make him realize how tightly he's clenched his fists, as if the slightest movement will incinerate the air. ]

[ Fuck it. ]

[ He shouldn't be watching. ]

[ It's juvenile. It's prurient. As a spy, keeping tabs on marks -- via cameras, trackers, microphones -- is sine qua non. Cool-headedness goes hand-in-hand with the deal. He's witnessed enough of these private moments -- and more -- on strangers. But his interests were seldom voyeuristic. The opposite; he'd felt mildly bored. Sexual activity made people look so stupid, really. Yet even as he reminds himself that, he grabs the remote to his camera network. Mutes all audio but that in Korra's room. He strains to hear it all -- the volume up high -- because god, he wants those sounds. ]

[ Memory truly is the cruelest sense. ]