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[Worth it. That better be smug pride and not some weird kind of guilt. Pretty much everything she really likes to do involves getting sore and bruised. This is just something new to add to the list.

She doesn't have the energy to roll off. She puddles against him, her arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her face buried in his shoulder.]

Mmmm.

[She sighs happily, little contented purrs as he strokes her back. Nothing like that first time. She's not afraid of him going cold and pushing her away. Whatever fluke had caused it doesn't seem to be coming back. (If only she knew. But there's no way for her to know unless he tells her, and that's not happening any time soon, is it?)

The sweat quickly cools on her skin, making it pebble and tremble. Her damp hair sticks to her in clumps; some of it gets stuck in her mouth, and she's faced with a dilemma: move her arm to take it out, or keep eating sweaty hair? She goes for a third option, wiggling her jaw and trying to spit it out. Yeah, real sexy, Korra. But the thought just makes her smile against his skin.]

I'm disgusting. [said matter of factly, and with no attempt to do anything about it. She's a pretty do-it-herself person, but right now the only way she's moving is if somebody carries her.]

[ It's a bittersweet pride. What's that joke again? Sweetie, if I can still walk to the kitchen after sex, you don't deserve a fucking sandwich. Sexist, but the punchline's in the right place. For a moment, like Joe Normal, he drowses. Korra's hair, damp and sweet-smelling, tickles his cheek. He shifts to burrow his nose into it. Women knock him out that way, redolent of fruit bowls and Chinese herb shops. Amber had always smelled of countless different things, but most strongly of cordite, apples and mint. A small part of him still thinks of her like that. Cordite. Apples. Mint. ]

[ Unexpectedly, a wash of green hair and a witchy smile surfaces through the waves of his subconscious. Hei inhales, shaking off the tide of both memory and sleep. ]

[ He's dead-tired. But still alert. Thoughts and tension are like caffeine -- he has enough to write a dissertation on. Against him, Korra feels like a gluey second skin. The weight is unwelcome -- his left leg is cramping and pins and needles jolt up the right. He should slide her off. Doesn't want to go soft and lose the condom inside her. But when she starts working her jaw and spitting, he can't help a half-smile. Never a dull moment with her, is there? Dryly, he says, ] Yeah. Absolutely vile. [ Lazily, he lifts a hand to smooth the hair from her face. Tips her head up for a kiss. She's sticky with him, skin, hair. But she still looks good, all tawny and tossed-about. There's a temptation to carry her to the bathroom, share a hot shower. ]

[ But playtime is over. Her roommates will miss her if she hangs around longer. ]

[ Lips feathering hers, he whispers, ] Korra [ and his free hand meets her backside in a swat ] don't fall asleep on me.

[Oh, Hei. You were doing so well. She had been all languid and content and enjoying the kiss.

And then he just had to swat her backside. She yelps in surprise and abruptly straightens.]

Hey! [She scowls and swats his shoulder.] Don't. Do that.

[It gets the desired effect, though -- she rolls off of him and to her feet. (Wouldn't recommend trying it again, though, unless the goal is to turn her off.) She stretches, sighs, and picks her panties off the floor.

................................................ew.]

You're not hiding one of those laundry box things anywhere, are you? [Because she is not walking home in come-and-spit crusted panties. No. Not happening. Argh, and her shirt probably needs washing too. She doesn't mind getting dirty, but she doesn't want to go home in clothes that shout "Hey I just had sex!" That's not something other people need to know. Particularly Chief Bei Fong.]

[ He's not exactly sorry. It was either that, or the risk of spillage-and-slippage. That'd replace the cute-fun-pissy look on her face with real horror, he's sure. He takes her swat in good part, letting her climb off. Stretches to work the kinks from his legs. With the same absent coordination that slipped the condom on, he discards it in the adjacent wastebin. Slips back into his pants with a relaxed shift of weight. On his feet, life always has a way of crashing back on him, with the cold slap of a wave breaking. But he's willing to let that bleakness coexist with this agreeably elastic buzz. ]

[ There's a quiet thrill in watching Korra, backside appled up, scavenge for her clothes. A moment later, he puts all pleasant distractions aside, his expression butter-wouldn't-melt. Laundry Box Things? Oh. Right. ] I'll handle it. Take your shower. [ The washer/dryer is in the kitchen. But given her rocky romance with technology, he's not letting her near it. Hair mussed, barefoot in wrinkled trousers, he pads across the floor to scoop up her breadcrumb trail of clothes. Congratulations. You got him to feed you and do your laundry. He's not sure whether to feel like a whipped pathetico or a glorified babysitter. ]

[(Back in South America, Maxley used to sneer that Hei was both. But that was before he'd developed a reputation for perfect cruelty and ruthlessness. All for Pai's sake.) ]

Thanks. [She quirks a smile at him before heading to the shower.

You don't have to be a whipped pathetico or a glorified babysitter, Hei. You could just be a (sometimes) nice guy. Or sensible. Considering Korra's relationship with technology.

She doesn't dawdle in the shower, but she doesn't rush either. The hot water feels blissful on her sore muscles, after the chilly air, and the soap smells like him. Simple little pleasures, the kind she likes best. The events of the past week feel like a distant nightmare. Things will be okay. Things are already okay.

Fifteen minutes later, she walks out of the bathroom, hair dripping, wrapped in a towel. She pokes her head into the kitchen.]

Shower's free, if you want.

[She shivers a little -- the air feels so cold after the warmth of the shower -- and wraps the towel more tightly around her. The smile she shoots him is a little bashful. It's a strangely exotic feeling: standing in his kitchen in only a towel, waiting for her clothes.]

[ A Nice Guy. That's 'Li's role. Not Hei's. But the very thing that makes Li so convincing is that he has a kernel -- a fraction -- of truth. It solidifies his persona. Gives it a backbone. Some mornings, right before Hei opens his eyes and shakes off sleep, he feels like Li. Not the timidity or stupidity; all that is windowdressing. But the core sense of decency -- of being a cohesive human being, blessed in his wholesome ignorance. ]

[ (Then reality creeps in, and, as with all extra fluff, that is enough to make him vanish. ) ]

[ There's a glance at Korra, calm and appreciative, at the sight of her in just his towel. Again, he feels that strange sense of intimacy in this Livin La Vida Domestica -- just as when he was feeding her. Then he realizes the strangeness is familiarity. It's why his memory keeps resurrecting Amber. The essentials in this hook-up are different -- he's willing to give, where with his one-offs, he'd only taken. Fucking these few years, had been only about his satisfaction, temporary obliteration of tension, temporary access to feeling, the rougher the better. The girls were just the means to that end. ]

[ The realization confuses him. Makes him a little uncomfortable. ]

[ He doesn't take as long as her in the shower. A hot soak first, then turn the water off, then meticulously apply the lather, then turn the water on again to rinse the soap and shampoo off. Five minutes in total. He's all about efficiency and saving resources, the freak. Returning, hair toweled dry, he extends a thick bundle at her. ] I think this is yours. [ Her coat. The one she'd left in the shed. He'd revisited two days ago (a criminal returning to a crime-scene?) to scope the area for a safe-house. The coat was still there, sullen and browned and gathering leaves. He isn't sure what prompted him to pick the filthy thing up and wash it. But he offers it to her now like an old book left in his safekeeping. ]

[Korra can be a little decadent. Hei also has less hair to wash, though.

While he's in the shower, she takes a seat at the kitchen table. She fingers her hair pieces, but doesn't try to put them back in yet. Her hair's too wet, and she likes having her hair down.

She looks up when he comes back into the kitchen, and her eyes widen in surprise.]

My coat.

[She hesitates before taking it, not knowing what to feel. How did he get it? How long has he had it? Why is he giving it back to her now? Touching it brings up a dizzying rush of memories, most of them painful. She can still taste the fear, the hurt, the shame. She still doesn't understand what happened, and she's already tried asking.

At the same time, that jacket is more to her than just that night. It's a piece of home; it's a piece of who she is. She cradles it to her chest.]

Thank you.

[ Spoilers: He has a crappy hair-dryer. Somewhere. Maybe he'll let you use it. (If he can find it.) ]

[ He watches her face as she takes the jacket, trying to parse those volatile facial expressions of which she has a whole wardrobe. He wouldn't be able to answer any of her questions -- not honestly. Especially not what happened and why. It's as if he'd lived the past few months -- in the City, back home -- in a hallucinogenic blur. Ideas distorted, colors inverted, space and time surreal. Now he's gradually seeing the real picture. In full clarity it's something else entirely. He can look back at all the points at which he could've explained himself better, not shoved her away and into such a state of confusion. ]

[ The idea of opening up, of being right with himself and the world is still anomalous to him. But in picking up Korra's jacket, he'd had a sense that he owed something to her. Owed her at least an apology, if not an explanation. Except both are nonexistent in his vocabulary. This will have to do. Shrugging a shoulder, his eyes cut to the side to determine when her clothes in the spin-cycle will stop. A beat then he murmurs, with a practiced nonchalance, ]

I couldn't exactly pawn the thing.

[You really need to work on your apologies, Hei. Korra has no idea what he's trying to convey by returning her jacket. He's only managed to give her more confusion. (What does that even mean, I couldn't exactly pawn the thing?) She tries to find some kind of answer in his face, but it's unreadable.]

How long have you had this?

[ Work on apologies. On kindness. On being human. There's an entire laundry list. His expression may be unreadable, but hers isn't. Fading from happily startled to deflated, like he's said something wrong (You did). She's got so many tells, this girl. But they're not simple and one-dimensional -- more like a complex weather system. You can read them, but you can't control them. ]

[ His gaze softens. It's subtle but it happens in degrees slow enough for her to map out. ]

Two days now. [ re: I meant to return it sooner. ] I thought you'd feel better if you had it back.

[Two days. Well, that's better than two months. She wonders what prompted him to go back for it. Did he see her post about Naga? Was he trying to comfort her? (Coincidence doesn't occur to her. You could say it's because she's still self-centered, but his phrasing certainly didn't help.)

She holds it more tightly against her chest.]

I didn't think I'd ever see it again.

[ That's the problem with words, isn't it? Too many distortions, misunderstandings and misconceptions. People hear only what they want to hear. Still, like white-lies, there are some misconstruals that he can let sit between them. She clutches the coat like it's something precious, and he decides he's done Something Right. ]

[ Notably dry, he says, ]

Be glad I didn't return it as it was. Something was building a nest in there.

[Not the problem of words. Silence and touch are just as easily misinterpreted. All types of communication are riddled with flaws. It's the problem of being human -- even when you're not fully so.]

Really? [She frowns, confused.] It's pretty early for nest building, isn't it? [Seasons here are a lot different than in the South Pole, which means the animals behave a lot differently too, but still, it doesn't make sense for an animal to start building a nest in the midst of winter.

Figure of speech, what?]

[ Hei's still more comfortable with bodies than with words. What's that saying? Words are like loaded pistols. He'd prefer the efficiency and finality of an actual weapon. You're far less likely to step wrong with a gun than with a remark. ]

[ Case in fucking point. This. ]

[ For a moment, his eyebrows crawl into his hairline. Jesus, Korra. What is he supposed to do with you? ] It's just a phrase. [ It's these moments where she reminds him impossibly of her child-self. Of Pai as a child. The girl could make his head spin by asking why the grass was green or if demons could steal your bellybutton or would butterflies live in your tummy if you ate caterpillars. Questions he used to be pretty good at answering. Back when he was a different person. ]

[ Shaking it off, he gives her a pointed look, ] Anyway, the only nest right now is your hair. [ Where did he put that goddamn hair dryer? ]

[What? It was a legitimate question. Just be glad it isn't closer to spring, otherwise she would've asked if you made sure to move the nest to somewhere safe. Nests are a lot of work to build.]

Oh. Thanks.

[She raises her hand self-consciously when he mentions her hair. It's pretty gnarly, and still heavy with water. Without her waterbending, she's taken to just letting it air dry.]

I didn't want to use your comb.

[ He ... would have no idea what to say to that. It'd be like conversing with a flower-child. A violent one. ]

I have a spare. [ Spare combs. Spare soaps. Spare toothbrushes. Semper paratus, as always. It beats the alternative of admitting it's not the first time a stranger's long hair have gotten tangled in his combs. He exits to retrieve a wide-toothed brush and set it on the sink, next to -- oh, there it is (this was beginning to feel like a scavenger hunt) -- the elusive hairdryer. Returns to hook a thumb in the direction of bathroom, to let her know the requisites are there. In this state of casual dishabille, engaged in quotidian tasks, the illusion that's created -- like they're two normal people -- is so three-dimensional and convincing, that he can almost forget their unique circumstances, or the zombies roaming the streets below. ]

[ Almost. ]

[ Try not to fry the hairdryer, Korra. ]

[She nods and heads back to the bathroom, leaving her jacket on the table.

There's a comb and a... hairdrier? That's what they're called, right? Asami had used one, but Korra never had the patience for them. Why sit still for fifteen minutes doing something that would happen naturally?

She spends some time working through the knots in her hair, then reconsiders the hairdrier. It is pretty cold out... She picks the device up and examines it critically. Flips the switch to turn it on and nearly drops it as her arm is hit with loud hot air.]

Wah!

[She quickly turns it off. Yeah, no, she'll just let it dry itself. She tucks her front two hairpieces in her pocket and pulls her hair back into a simple ponytail before returning to the kitchen.]

How long will my clothes take?

[It's more curiosity than impatience, although it would be nice to wear more than a towel. She doesn't walk around this naked at home, much less at another person's place.]

[ If it's any consolation, Hei can't remember when he let anyone wander around his flat, post-coitus. Usually the girls were ushered out of motel rooms, or paid for and vacated. He didn't let them hang around. Didn't want them to. It was an affront to his distance and privacy. He's no more accustomed than Korra is to this routine receipt of routine courtesy. ]

[ Dimly, he listens to her wrestle with the bit of technology -- Winner of Round I: Hairdryer. Prowls around the kitchen, hungry for a good lashing of something salty, meaty, greasy. But even after devouring four cold slices of pizza, his appetite hasn't settled. At length, a tangerine in the fruit-bowl suffices. He's on the stool, breaking the peel with his thumbs, a sharp citric aroma filling the space, when Korra returns. ]

Hm? [ A distant voice says she'll catch a cold wandering around in a towel. He ignores it. ] Give it five more minutes. [ He drops pieces of peel onto a plate. Digs his fingers into the fruit, pulling it into sections. After a pause, he reaches, matter-of-factly, not quite looking at her, to draw her onto his leg. Offers her a slice, thinking No one needs to know I let her sit in my lap and fed her oranges. ]

[ He ought to invest in getting a pet. ]

[Korra's too surprised to even make a sound of surprise. She lets him settle her on his lap, and takes the proffered tangerine slice.]

Thank you.

[What.

Is.

This.

She's not complaining. He's solid and warm and he smells nice. But it's confusing, too. His displays of what could be considered affection are rare. She's not entirely sure what to do with this.

Enjoy it?

She bites into the slice, blushing a little.]

[ He's not sure affection is the proper word. Its connotations -- warmth, tenderness, kindness -- are tangential in Hei's life. The moments where he'd unbent enough to offer them were mostly to achieve a calculated goal. But indulgent doesn't fit either. Their little fling is lopsided in many aspects, but that makes it sound like he regards her as a child -- or at least someone needing care and attention. ]

[ (Is that really too far off from how you treat her?) The implication is disturbing. As is the knowledge that Pai's absence has left parts of himself dispersed so far away, he has to snatch at echoes to fill the void. He tries to push it aside. ]

[ Thinking bad. Fruits tasty. ]

[ Quietly, he feeds her, and himself, with sticky slices. His fingertips smell strongly of orange as he touches her chin. Wryly, he says, ] Next time you let me tickle your tonsillectomy scar [ if her world has tonsillectomies -- or understands that euphemism ] it's a good idea to leave the clothes off. [ Face it. Damp hair and the scent of a stranger's detergent are as much a giveaway as stains. ]

[Children aren't the only people who need care and attention. Everybody does (otherwise they become hard, bitter people like you, Hei). That's what people have family and pets and friends and lovers. In different ways, to varying degrees, everybody needs to feel valued.

She's still a little tense with confusion, but little by little, she settles back against him, letting him feed her. It seems to be a thing with him.

His comment is met with a blank look.]

Huh?

[That....made absolutely no sense to her.]

[ Hard and bitter -- but that's just a byproduct of a life where softness is a liability. While it's true that everyone (even monsters) need lovingconcern, it's equally true you can survive without it. Or if you are loved, there's no guarantee you won't become a monster anyway. Besides: love? Has a short shelf life. He's learnt to subsist on a far more meager gruel. The skills and mindsets that keep him alive in his profession only cause problems in the civilian world. By now, he's used to living in his own head. ]

[ It's certainly not like he traverses continents playing violins for his own ass all the time. At least, not often. ]

[ He doesn't bother to hide his amusement at her blank look. Popping the last slice into his mouth, he murmurs, ] Nothing. [ Mouth tangy with juice, he leans in to kiss her. It's short but sweet, a parting seal. Breaking away, he gently nudges her off as the dryer alarm goes off. ] Your clothes are done.

[Korra would play them for him, if she knew how. Or just...care. She knows how to care.

She harrumphs in irritation at his amused look, but the kiss proves an effective distraction, short as it is. When the dryer signals its end, she slides off his lap reluctantly.

But hey, at least her clothes are warm. She drops the towel and quickly shimmies into them, enjoying their heat with a little hum of contentment.]

Thanks again.

[ If she cared, he wouldn't know what to do with it. Or, more truthfully, he would know. Habit and training would demand he take advantage of such a bright-red target laid out before him. If he couldn't bring himself to do that, he'd be forced to shut himself off. Withdraw, because any vulnerability is equated with strings and scorekeepng in his world. Caring is just another way to use people. An illusion and a suspension of logic. ]

[ He lets her pull her clothes on, absently wiping his hands on a napkin. In perhaps the most familiar pattern in his disjointed time in the City, he sees her to the door. The curl at the edge of his mouth isn't a smile. But it's a quiet and soft facsimile, matching the dim play of shadows and light. Fingering the collar of her shirt, he says, ] Head home fast. Stay away from dark corners. [ It's Stay safe in another vocabulary. Locked up in his head, it's often easy for him to forget a physical end of the spectrum that doesn't deal with pain and violence. Her visits, the tiny fragments of normalcy she brings, are a refreshing time-out. ]

[The last thing she does is shrug on her jacket. The weight of it is both familiar and not. Hopefully no one will comment on its sudden appearamce, though that doesn't occur to Korra at this moment.

She follows him to the door and lingers, rolling her eyes a little at his words.]

Yes, Dad.

[The ghouls don't scare her. What she's capable of does.

She stands on tiptoe to kiss him quickly.]

See ya.

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