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[ Hei listens to the footsteps, not two sets anymore. Just one. Another clang. The door at the end of the cell block, out of his line of sight. Shut with a metal echo, signaling the guard's exit. The person left behind isn't a prisoner, then. Just a visitor. There's a fizzle of excitement that it might be Pai. But he immediately recognizes the rhythm of that walk. Korra. Frowning, Hei stares at her. Not coming closer, just standing inside his cell, breathing. She looks good; much too good, given the circumstances. His gaze takes her in slowly, her shining eyes, shining bands in her hair. All beguiling and sweet-looking. ]

[ He licks his dry lips thoughtfully, before he asks, ]

Why are you here?

[ The sharpness of his tone suggests irritation. But it's actually confusion. He doesn't expect visits from her; she certainly doesn't owe them to someone like him. ]

[It'd be a lie to say his tone doesn't sting, but she's known him for too long to let it put her completely out of humor.]

Good question. [It may, however, have made her a little snarky.] I was here to see how you're doing.

[ There's a dull flicker of contrition. The cell is tiny; the rules are mindboggling; the food is crap. But that's no reason to take his mood, his itching frustration, out on her. His expression goes from steely to uncertain, tentative. After a few beats, he draws forward, leaning in close. One hand wraps itself around the bars; the other stays loose at his sides. He doesn't smile at her, but he continues staring. It's not her fault she's a splash of delectable color in the dull grayness of the prison. But, Christ, she's being such an unwitting tease. Prick-tease, mind-tease, heart-tease. For a moment he hates her. ]

[ But. It's not her fault. Hei doesn't particularly want any company. But he doesn't want her to leave, either. ]

I'm fine. [ His irritation softens into dryness; his eyelids droop in the flickering tubelight. ] Enjoying my corner of paradise. [ A long pause, before he adds, almost as an afterthought, ] You look nice.

[ Because clearly it's too complicated to say I missed you. ]

Obviously. [He is clearly a man having all the fun in the world. She comes closer, not leaning against the bars or touching him, but companionable. There's a peculiar comfort in his presence. It's not based in affection, certainly not based in trust, but it isn't just physical either. It's the way a hearty meal can make a bad day better.

The compliment makes her lips twitch.] Thanks. Wish I could say the same about you. [She softens the teasing remark with a gentle fistbump.]

Hm. Can't say these prison grays brings out my eyes.

[ His tone is noncommittal. But when she steps closer, Hei maintains his distance. In the tubelight, his skin is anemic-looking, hair scraped into a sloppy semblance of neatness, circles under his eyes, nearly the same level of ennui and sullenness clouding his gaze as an animal in a zoo, opiated on its own incarceration. He's not built for long periods of idleness. But he is trained to bide his time -- and that's what he's doing here. He softens a degree at her little fistbump. Wants to touch those fingers, to kiss the little tips and taste the salt of her palm. ]

[ Instead he curls his hand tighter into the bars. ] I'm guessing the police haven't found the mysterious Rowena. Or Theo's knife. [ It isn't a question. ]

Edited 2013-09-07 06:03 (UTC)

[Knife to the gut. She can't help making a face, she know it looks comical, but the way she feels is anything but. Helping Rowena had been the first selfless, Avatar-worthy thing she had done in...awhile. Doing it, she'd felt for a moment like herself again, like she'd recovered a piece of something that was missing inside of her.

But of course it would be a trick. She'd fallen for a stupid scheme, and instead of "helping" she actually hurt someone.]

No.

[That's all she can bear to say on the subject. She doesn't feel like parading her open wounds. Time to switch topics.]

When are you getting out?

[ He's expecting her to bridle, but instead she gives him the dinner-plate eyes. He wonders what she was thinking of, committing such a mindless act of stupidity. Except a part of him already knows. It's about being the Avatar. That one word that skewers her sense of self, so she's always squirming around like a worm on a hook, trying to find some angle or nook that suits her. But all it does is leave her vulnerable to the snapping jaws of predators, swimming in the ocean around her. Life is about staying afloat in far murkier waters than Korra realizes. ]

[ He pretends not to notice when she changes the subject. Shrugs his shoulders instead, his gaze dipping to study his own fingers. He could Get out any time he wanted to. The prison is barely an impediment. But if he has a sentence, it's pointless to turn himself in and not serve it. He has no intention of winding up in worse trouble. ]

The thirteenth. [ He'll be free to go about his affairs. But there'll be a tracking device -- a bracelet -- coiled to his wrist at all times. At least, until the month ends. A beat, before he tips his chin, a faint smile at the edges of his lips. ] Maybe I'll pay you a surprise visit.

Doesn't warning me kind of ruin the surprise? [Not that she's at all against the idea. She may have more privacy to scratch certain itches than he does, but there are some things a girl just can't do on her own.]

I never said when I'd visit.

[ A quirk of the mouth, wry but not exactly harmless. Agreed, he has no privacy. But the nature of his profession guarantees that he's used to not getting his ashes hauled on the regular. All that surveillance, the crammed hours, the hypervigilance, the last-minute exits. At home, his encounters with barflies or the demimonde were sporadic -- a necessity more than a lifestyle choice, as most men his age make it. But that doesn't mean there's no slow-burning frustration inside him. Not yet boiling over -- he's learnt patience and restraint too well for that -- but a constant, palpable, low-level simmer. ]

[ Little by little, he drifts closer. Enough to breathe Korra in, his fingers hooked onto the crossbar to keep them from reaching out. ]

Maybe when you're at work. Or on your way to work. Or in between. [ A pause. ] Maybe late at night. When your little zoo's asleep and you're just about to turn in.

[ It's not seductive so much as a speculative, like it's a list of errands he's eager to run. ]

You wouldn't! [She's teased him about not coming to the Beach House, but that doesn't mean she actually WANTS him to! No way is she going to have sex with him while Mako's asleep upstairs and could wake up at any moment by her admittedly unquiet self.]

I would.

[ It's lighthearted banter, yet not. The idea has an intensely ticklish appeal. Hei knows both Korra and Mako's hours. He knows that perfect window of opportunity -- the time-gap when she gets home before Mako does. Whether he'll go through with the idea or not, he doesn't say. Let her try to figure it out. He'll know his own mood and intent when he's released a week from now. The fingers of his left hand uncurl around the crossbar. He lifts them to skim across Korra's jaw, cradling it. He can see the blue facets of her eyes, the two little dots of reflected light in their whites. She smells like food and autumn breeze and agitation. ]

You'd turn me out if I showed up? [ A twitch of a smile. ] If so, you're a worse host than I am.

[She scowls at him, even though she's enjoying the feel of his hand.]

I would. [Of course it's just light-hearted banter to him; he doesn't live with Mako, or have any reason to care about his feelings. But Korra does. Forget the embarrassment of being caught; the idea of how hurt he'd feel is enough to make her nauseous. His confusion and sadness when she told him she didn't love him anymore had been hard enough to bear. (She remembers how hurt Bolin had been when he caught them, and that had only been a kiss and his feelings only a crush)]

[ Once again, he's misstepped. ]

[ Exhaling, Hei leans in, so his forehead rests against the cool bars, his gaze tangled with Korra's. He doesn't take his hand away. Her skin is all warm and peachy against his palm. He strokes a thumb along her cheekbone like she's a kitten to be gentled. The smell of rusty metal fills his nose with every breath. But beneath that, there's that lighter, sweeter aroma of Korra. It takes him a moment to realize she's less uncomfortable with the idea of his presence on principle, more with the idea of Mako catching her. He almost wants to roll his eyes. Typical teenage melodrama. Instead there's a dull bite, not of jealousy but chilly resentment. She doesn't even have feelings for Mako anymore. But she still shows him far more discretionary regard than she'd ever show Hei. ]

[ His voice is flat but it's a concession. ] Fine. [ He drops his hand, and his gaze. ] There's always closets and back-alleys.

Edited 2013-09-07 07:49 (UTC)

[Her frown lingers. She's getting the distinct impression that she did something wrong, but she doesn't understand what. He's not jealous. Is he disappointed that she took a joke too seriously? How's she supposed to tell?

You didn't do anything wrong. She repeats that thought to herself, bolstering her resolve. She has a responsibility to the people she cares about, and the fact that she's no longer in love with Mako doesn't remove him from that category. She owes him some consideration.

(If she knew what Hei was thinking, she'd probably punch him to cover up the hurt that he thinks so little of her. Luckily, she doesn't.)]

I guess.

[Instead, she slips her hand through the bar to reach for his, a silent question: What did I do wrong?]

[ Hei doesn't reach for her hand. He's shuttered himself off again -- it's evident in his opaque gaze and the thin line of his mouth. Instead he rocks back on his heels. Goes right over, head over heels back in a tight somersault that lands him with a neat plop on the bunk. The thin mattress creaks as he settles crosslegged. A cockroach skitters out and runs in crazy circles across the walls. He ignores it. ]

[ Instead he regards Korra for a moment. Her questioning look is all too apparent. He wants to weave some pretty lie to allay it. Maybe brush it aside with a smile. But if he's one thoughtless jackass, Korra is certainly another, sometimes. He isn't sure why he's resentful. But his cells seem to quiver, his mind boils, and he can feel the anger building. He doesn't want much from Korra, it's true. He desires her, deeply and unswervingly. Anticipates the next time he'll have her, even as he's never sure what his intentions towards her are. When he tries to parse out the feelings that don't involve lust at all, he just gets confused. Lust is inextricable. ]

[ Still, it annoys him that she can compartmentalize him, the way he used to do with her, before he'd resolved to stop. Where he's no longer willing to treat her like a whore, Korra seems all too comfortable with the idea of boxing him away like one. A fuck, a good time, a couple of hours wasted. That's it. Once back amongst her friends and her routine, she reverts to her practiced attitudes. It's embittering, yet he's not really surprised. She is acting no differently than she has all along. What's happened to Hei, on the other hand -- that is the anomaly. He'd been afraid of this, even before he'd dumped her at that diner. ]

[ She wants him as a distraction, a dirty secret, and that is all. How well Hei treats her isn't going to make any difference to that. ]

Pencil it into your schedule, then.

[ An idle remark. He's not even looking at her anymore. ]

[She crosses her arms, and the scowl becomes a full-out glower. For such a violent, temperamental person, he can also be a ridiculously passive aggressive asshole. Normally his inexplicable tantrums make her nervous, but with those thick steel bars between them, all she feels is angry.]

If you're pissed about something, come out and say it.

[ Those steel bars wouldn't mean much if he unleashed his ability. The only thing containing Hei is the steadiness of his own resolve. He stares at her for a moment, face immobile. Then his features sharpen by slow degrees into a glower of his own. For a moment he wonders if she's even here. Maybe this isn't Korra at all, but one of those intense, nonsensical hallucinations he sometimes has before bed. The ones that start out as flickers. But the longer he spends in the dark, the wilder they become. Blinding, multicoloured firework shows, and spectacular green glowing hot-cross buns. He knows what it is -- in the absence of any real stimulus, his visual cortex begins to make up images. Prison cinema. ]

[ But no. She's real enough. And not budging, by the looks of it. ]

Leave it alone, Korra.

[ It's a dismissal, not a warning. ]

No. Not until you tell me what you're so freaking upset about.

[She can't apologize if she doesn't know what she's apologizing for. She can't make something right until she knows what she did wrong.]

[ Hei nearly starts to say It doesn't matter. But then he wonders: Who's feelings is he sparing? Hers? Fuck that. She'd have to see him as a human being to manifest those for him. His expression might be schooled into a mild calmness that's neither here nor there, but his knuckles are white as he interlaces his hands in his lap. Very quiet and scathing, he asks, ]

What exactly do you see, when you look at me, Korra?

[ If it's an interrogation, he makes it sound more like a Pop Quiz Of Nonsequiturs. ]

Huh?

[Well THAT question came out of nowhere. What's that even supposed to mean? She sees him. What else would she see?]

[ At her expression, Hei mutters something indecipherable under his breath. It'd be easier to just pull back and put up those blade-studded walls and spare Korra from having to deal with him while he's like this but. He swallows another Forget it. It's too late anyway. He's already dripping venom like a runny nose. ]

I want a word. An adjective. What would you use? Horrible. Bloodthirsty. Unreliable. Several words? Lying scumbag. Not To Be Trusted. Keep Away From Family and Friends. [ He looks on the verge of spitting, his mouth pulled out of shape, eyes like two licks of ice. It's tempting to throw other things at her, things edged like shuriken, meant to slice apart. But he's in one of those moods where all the barbs and acid would fly off the handle, splattering and cutting anything in reach. ]

[ Instead, simply, ]

When you see me, do you see a person at all?

[The words he's thrown slice her enough, because she has no idea where they're coming from. She can't imagine what she might have said or done to make him believe that she'd think any of those things. Does he honestly think she'd sleep with him, cry on him, share some of her darkest and most painful moments with him, if she thought of him like that?]

Of course I do. How could you even ask that?

How? I don't know.

[ Except the words are ice-tipped, full of disdain. He hates how she's looking at him, out of that young-old face, that lovely blue-eyed face. Just looking at him, the way his silent victims sometimes stand around and look at him in his dreams. She'd have been one of the horde, if he'd, as Amber used to say, Had his druthers. When he glances up at her, it's with a stilted kind of mildness that doesn't reach his eyes. The spike of rage, meanwhile, settles into a steady hum underneath his bones -- it's not increasing but it's not decreasing either. ]

Sometimes, [ he says, and it's almost thoughtful -- a quiet voice and a dull gaze. ] I think you keep everything wholesome about you for another place and circumstance. For another person. Or people.[ He bites his lower-lip, the teeth glinting like a knife half-sheathed in his mouth. He's unsheathed and used it before, slashing at her identity, telling her she isn't the Avatar here, tearing into the weakness of love, of life, of everything she represents. ] I get the remainder. I get the slime and the fucking.

[ There's a long pause. Almost honest, but with a bitterness lacing each word, he adds, ]

I wouldn't mind, normally. Or care. But I made this idiotic promise to myself not to do that with you. Not anymore.

[ The What a stupid idea that was is unspoken, but palpable. ]

[She can feel his words grab onto her heart and twist, not so much shredding it to pieces as completely pulverizing it. It hurts so much, she can hardly breathe, much less come up with a rejoinder with any hope of hurting him as badly.]

Guess now I know what you really think of me.

[She turns away, not so he won't see her cry but because she's leaving. She's not going to bother trying to defend herself to him, just to give him the chance to get a few more emotional blows in. If he can honestly say that after everything they've been through together, she doesn't want anything to do with him.]

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