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[mortemscintilla]

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[mortemscintilla]

[ Overoptimistic indeed. Logic may be a Contractor's prerogative -- but Hei isn't a real Contractor. He's human. Far as he's come from separating brute facts from emotional legerdemain, as successfully as he's adapted in a profession which is entirely removed from decency or sentiment, his motivations still spring from an irrational source. Revenge. Hatred. Protectiveness. Death may be impermanent in the City. But who is to say that's his only solution? He could still make deal with the Deities. Reverse the effects of Pavel's own trade. He could make it so he and Korra never knew he existed. ]

[ It's better for all parties that way. ]

[ At Pavel's assertion, his brow arches and his mouth quirks, but there's no warmth there. Just a dead chill in the air around him.] It's dangerous to be too sure of anything. [ Death isn't the only option. Here or anywhere. Often, you wish it was. ] What could you do, if I killed you, right here? Not out of logic, but spite. You'd come back. In 24 hours. But it would be 24 hours of Korra, without you to warn her. Or help her. So many hours, in which I could do. So. Much.

[ He holds Pavel's eyes a moment. Lets that vicious message sink in. It's not a threat, but a reminder not to be too complacent. Whether he has to handle the issue by attrition, or by machinations, Hei can afford to be patient. ]

[ He doesn't answer Pavel's next question immediately. Only turns his head to look out at the park -- milky snow glittering on the grass. How can he explain, that he's been programmed to keep to a world of shadows? That since the age of eleven, it's been pounded -- literally -- into his head: Stay separate from the 'normal' world. Their illusion of reality is not yours. Their world is not yours. You don't exist there. ]

[ He's aware the City plays by different rules. But old habits are hard to break. Eventually, he replies, ] It's not your business. [ Nor is it your problem. He's lost too many friends -- comrades, civilians -- who made his problems theirs. It's almost a plea -- not that there's anything plaintive in Hei's demeanor -- for Pavel not to repeat the cycle. ] The less you and Korra know, the better.

[candothat]

You wouldn't do that. [This time with more confidence. Perhaps Chekov wouldn't be so sure if he understood what it was to feel hatred or to seek revenge (even after seeing Nero, hatred and revenge personified, destroy billions of lives in the name of vengeance, they aren't concepts that resonate on a personal level), or if he was better at seeing the thousands of shades of gray between good and evil. Even in the future, life isn't black and white; Starfleet has yet to incorporate that fact into its lessons. It teaches a philosophy of polarity. There are friends, enemies, and neutral parties, nothing more.

Hei may threaten and Mao's server may have contained information that Pavel would rather not remember, but Hei is, ultimately, a friend.

If that's the case, then why do his words chill Chekov right down to the bone?]

You believe that. [It's a statement. Hei obviously believes that his secrets are no one else's business (and really, they're not, although the ferocity with which he guards them only makes them more appealing) and that it's best if he remains a mystery. This isn't something Chekov can accept readily. Mysteries exist to be unraveled and the degree to which a secret is protected is in direct relation to that secret's importance. Hei may as well be laying down a challenge.] I believe that you are so accustomed to keeping secrets that you are afraid to allow anyone to learn them.

[If the faltering eye contact wasn't enough to tell Hei that Pavel is becoming increasingly unnerved by the conversation, then the slip back into carefully enunciated, contraction-free speech is a dead giveaway.]

[mortemscintilla]

If that's what you prefer believing. [ It's dismissal, not acceptance. Hei's life has never been so monochrome. Variables on one end of the scale (allies) can quickly slide to the other (enemies), or goldilocks somewhere in between. All that's needed is the right moments and motivations. Amid such volatility, you learn not to take labels at face value. He can count on both hands how often he's turned on Mao and Huang, or they on him, according to their personal goals as opposed to the Syndicate's orders. (As for good and evil -- he's no Nietzche, but like a majority of his Contractor counterparts, he's not concerned with inhabiting either spectrum. Only in protecting himself -- and those who hold an intrinsic value in his life.) ]

[ The tea cup is balanced neatly on the bench armrest next to Hei. He stretches his legs out, his posture relaxed. But he can feel Pavel's nervous energy vibrating against his flank. He doesn't even have to probe or catalogue -- the younger man's aura practically spells out the message for him. His remarks are equal parts accurate and amusing. Hei isn't trying to be mysterious or secretive, so much as adhering to the Syndicate's standard procedures. (But part of that adherence is fear -- the fear of exposure, blackmail, exploitation, or any of the myriad of horrors you suffer when your shields collapse. ]

[ It's not long before he says, a thoughtful rather than delayed response, ] Accustomed or afraid, they're my secrets to keep. [ Colder, ] The truth's an overrated thing, anyway. [ With the skeletons in your closet yanked out, all that's left of you is a rattling, boneless emptiness. You become defenseless. ]

[candothat]

Only because it is what I believe to be true. [And he tries to quiet his mind. Thinking too much now is not going to benefit him in the least; it'll only make him more nervous and annoyed with Hei's stubborn refusal to say anything outright. Chekov could, perhaps, be quite good at playing mind games if he had the motivation, but as it is, they irritate him.

Honest. Straightforward. That's what he likes.]

I don't understand.

[mortemscintilla]

[ Honest. Straightforward. None of that has any relationship to Hei's life. Sketchy details, withheld secrets, these are the themes of his profession. Anti-TMI. At the same time he acknowledges that Pavel has a right to ask, after everything Hei's put him and Korra through. Too bad his sense of fair-play is nonexistent. ]

It's better if you don't understand. [ he says, and the set of his mouth is flat with a million warnings tucked behind it. There's a moment to drain the rest of his tea cup, before he crumples it and tosses it into the adjacent bin. Rising, he brushes off the snow from his jeans, but it's a sloppy effort compared to his usual precision -- he's already halfway to slipping back into 'Li's costume. ]

[ He doesn't immediately meet Pavel's eyes. But when he does, his face, carefully calm, is nonetheless tired and still. His whole body projects a subtle exhaustion, evident in the dark skin under his eyes and the droop of his shoulders. ]

If it's worth anything, tell Korra she has nothing to regret. She did nothing wrong. That was all me. [ He knows he preempted her choice in the kiss-off. But it was for her own good. Emotion is Hei's Achilles heel. Emotion is what muddles him. His life, his self, just isn't designed for it. She's better off with someone who owns less baggage, someone who doesn't think of people in terms of meat-puppets and manipulations. ] I know she's upset. But it'll be worse if I'm with her, whether she thinks so or not. I broke it off to make things easier for her. Not to add to her problems.

[ None of this is easy to say. But it's true and factual and felt. With that, Hei turns to go, hands tucked into his hoodie, before Pavel can reply or protest. To an outsider, the abrupt exit would ring of rudeness -- but it's just a snapshot of his world, and his state of mind. ]