[ Reading the translation, a frisson he'd like to call relief but what is really dread sparks through him, beginning at his tingling scalp, ending at his twitching fingers. Deeply wrong with you. Out of balance. Want to help. It's only touching when you want it to be touching. He doesn't want this. This is the opposite of touching. ]
[ What the hell is up with her? ]
[ To him, this isn't a sweet offer of help. It's practically a suicide note, inked in Korra's blood. Bad enough she seems to enjoy buzzing around a killer. Now she wants to play armchair therapist? What's next? Juggling hand-grenades? Playing hopscotch in a crocodile moat? Her budding interest in 'helping' him can only be a softer alternative to a bullet in the brain.]
[ (We do not touch enough. He can summon but one rejoinder. We should not be touching at all. ) ]
no subject
[ What the hell is up with her? ]
[ To him, this isn't a sweet offer of help. It's practically a suicide note, inked in Korra's blood. Bad enough she seems to enjoy buzzing around a killer. Now she wants to play armchair therapist? What's next? Juggling hand-grenades? Playing hopscotch in a crocodile moat? Her budding interest in 'helping' him can only be a softer alternative to a bullet in the brain.]
[ (We do not touch enough. He can summon but one rejoinder. We should not be touching at all. ) ]