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[ For a split-second, in Korra's deflated look, Hei sees the little girl he scolded in the Underground, all the wind taken out of her sails, all unaware of her future. For a moment he half-misses when she was that child. She was easy to handle then. As long as you offered food, piggybacks and smiles you could never be in the wrong with children. ]

[ In the next beat he brushes the idle thought off. Centers himself on the Now. Both his hands take hers in his, cupping around it so he can breathe quiet exhales. Not a particularly effective way of warming, but it is contact for contact's sake. He doesn't throw darts at a board in these moments. He maps every move out. The tenderness(?) isn't impulsive, much less accidental. He's testing the waters, seeing how far he can take this. ]

[ Once a vulture, always a vulture. He shakes it off. It would be easy to beastalize this as a ploy to take advantage of a vulnerable girl. And while it's true that it's on his mind, it's also true that he'd prefer to comfort her somehow, not add to her unhappiness. It's a want, soft-edged, not a cold and calculating need born out of pure self-benefit. ]

[ Rubbing a thumb over her knuckles, he says, ] Come off the roof. You'll catch a cold hanging out here.

[There's an instinct to resist -- what if something changes with Chekov? How will she know? At the same time, she lacks the energy to put up a struggle. And there is perhaps a part of her that wants to leave, to be warm and distracted rather than cold and wallowing.]

I can't go back there.

[Not now. Not yet. She'll go wherever he takes her, as long as it's not the beach house. Selfish as it is, she's not ready to face the horror of her friends or the blood in the sand.]

Edited 2013-03-15 05:51 (UTC)

[ Can't go back there. He realizes off the bat that she doesn't mean back inside the hospital's warmer interior. She means back home. Her voice is so soft; he feels what a hideous effort this whole night is for her, even as she pretends she isn't swimming around in misery, like Alice in her own tears. That she wants to take shelter in all sorts of unwise yet expeditious places (with all sorts of shady people) isn't astonishing. ]

[ It's not selfish. It's just another coping mechanism among the thousand. ]

[ Hei stays crouched near her, hands curled around her smaller ones. A beat passes and the look on his face slips to something contemplative; his eyes are in shadow, but his gaze stays steady on hers. He could take her to a cafe or a restaurant. Get her fed and warmed up. Or take her wandering through the City, so she'd get her mind off what she's going to do next, try to still her anxiety about the indeterminate future -- which will start in the morning and stretch on indefinitely, miserable and stressful and confusing. Or... ]

[ Or he can take her back to his flat. ]

[ Hei runs his tongue over his teeth, then stands, still holding her hands in his. He tugs at her to rise -- firm, but also coaxing. ] You don't have to. [ Another tug, ] Get up now. [ Whatever turn this night takes, he's determined to put Korra first, to try to turf out the words I and me. He's been thinking of them too much. He hopes to let them gather dust awhile. ]

[She lets him pull her up without struggle or complaint, and he'll quickly see that taking her out in public for long isn't an option. Her scrunched up pose had hidden the fact that she's still covered in Chekov's blood; it's smeared across her jeans and soaking through her borrowed shirt. She looks like someone who just came out of a horror movie...or who's still in the middle of one.]

[ It's the night shift. In the City. He doubts there's anyone left who isn't inured to the sight of a girl in bloodstained clothes. But there's also Korra's own comfort level to take into account. (That's what most choices come down to, don't they? Not logic but personal comfort.) If she'd feel better indoors, than to his flat they'll go. ]

[ In the circumstances, her lack of struggle isn't as disquieting as it should be (Except it is. Because this is Korra.) He tucks her hand with his into his coat pocket, and realizes that in the short time he's known her, this has already become a habitual gesture. He's quiet with her in the elevator down to the main lobby. (Funny; he's never stood in an elevator with her before, much less in a hospital.) When another couple gets on two floors down, at the maternity ward, Hei flashes one of 'Li's fake elevator smiles. The doors open on the false pink and peach serenity of the main floor. As if Monet prints and garish lights can mask the hypocrisy and panic in the air here. ]

[ Only when the swinging glass doors disgorge them into the cold freshness of the open air, does Hei squeeze her hand. ] Let's get you back to my place. [ After a quick detour to pick up coffee. Her fingers feel icy in his. ]

[Korra holds his hand loosely, bumping gently against his arm as they walk to the elevator. She ignores the nervous looks the couple from the maternity ward give her, stares down at her blood-soaked clothing. Dimly regrets putting on her undershirt from home this morning -- she's never going to get the blood out of it.

She inches closer to him when they return to the chilly night air.]

Mmm.

[She'll go wherever. She's not a leaf in the wind so much as a leaf in a river, moving upon someone else's power, drowning and frozen.]

[ A leaf in a river, carried away on the current of circumstances. Hei can accept that passivity. But that doesn't mean he has to pretend he likes it. There's an I don't care what happens to me or anything else anymoreness about her that's too strong an echo of others he's known and lost -- to despair, to dissipation, to death. Fortunately he's not one to succumb to pointless fussing. He's charged himself with keeping an eye on Korra. And he'll carry it through, regardless of her state of mind, or where it leads her. (Which is the reason he'd volunteered to be Pai's bodyguard in the first place.) ]

[ Streetlights glitter off the fine mist of snow. It's quiet enough that he can hear Korra breathe beside him as they wend their way down the sidewalk. A few blocks from his flat, he catches the enticing aroma of espresso. The open-air espresso bar is one of the last places still lit-up on the main street this late on a Friday night. He stops to buy two take-out cups at the window; the Irish coffee lets off a curl of aromatic steam as he pops the lid and slips it into Korra's free hand. ]

Drink up.

[ There's snow stuck in his hair, white against black and the blue of his scarf. He watches a snowflake land on Korra's cheek, there one second then melting away, like a tear sloping down the shape of her face. He wants to touch her. Wants to say something kind. It's all right, maybe. Except nothing is. He knows that perfectly. That's why she's with you at all. ]

[She accepts the coffee cup, ignoring the way it burns her frozen fingers, and takes an obedient sip.

She immediately spits it back out with a yelp of pain. HOT! HOT HOT HOT HOT HOT!]

I burneb by bung!

[She gives him a comically betrayed look. That hurt! (Still, the physical pain is a relief from the numbness, and much easier to handle than what's aching inside.)]

[ A smile, sardonic, amused, but soft too, twitches on Hei's lips. He hides it into the curve of his own coffee cup, blowing before he takes a slow sip. At least she's not totally catatonic yet. That's a good sign. ]

I said drink up. Not chug. [ He reaches to touch her face, fingertips cool and light against the cut of her jaw. ] I'll put a teaspoon of cinnamon on it later. [ Or she could chew on a mouthful of snow. But that's always squicked him out on a personal level. Too many pedestrians peeing in the slush etc ]

[Her gaze flicks away as his fingers brush her face, sending a faint sensation running through her. Not strong enough yet to be a feeling.]

How's that gonna help? [She says it slowly, trying to be careful of her tongue. Her voice has sunk back into a monotone, though now it's more sullen than empty.]

[ His hand still at her face, he strokes the line of her jaw with his thumb, keeping his eyes on hers. She'll never know just how carefully he's keeping track of every little detail about her, like a slide under a microscope, mapping out irregularities. Ordinarily, it stems from premeditation and calculation: He acts sweet, pretends to care, but in truth all he's waiting for is an opening to plunge in the knife. ]

[ But that's not the case here. ]

Old wives tale. Honey and cinnamon are supposedly good for a burnt tongue. [ He shrugs, his breath fogging in front of him in an exhale. ] I've never tried it myself. Cough drops work better in my experience. [ Feeling out in his overcoat's pocket, he finds a half-roll of menthol squares and hands her one. ]

Edited 2013-03-16 01:55 (UTC)

[She pops the coughdrop in her mouth with only a moment's hesitation. Makes a face at the taste, but it does help her tongue.]

Thanks.

[Still not meeting his eyes, but something in her breath has changed since he touched her face.]

[ If Hei notices, he doesn't say anything. ]

[ If he wanted to, he could follow this lull through and craft into a moment of deception. He could tell her -- You can trust me. I won't let anything happen to you.. And even if that's as close as BK201 gets to instinct, he knows it's disingenuous. Korra has never pulled any such tricks on him. She's always has been sincere, and Hei's willing to offer her at least a fraction of the same sincerity. ]

[ It's then that he leans in, closes the distance between them. His breath plumes up between their faces, warming her cheeks briefly before the air chills them again, and he carefully touches his mouth to hers. It isn't a kiss: more a butterflied touch of parted lips, like he's trying to share heat and breath. After a moment, the hesitance - except that's not what it is; it's like dipping a finger in water to test the temperature -- he turns it into a kiss, hot and hungry and openmouthed, the press of his palm insistent at the side of her neck. ]

[ Between their mouths and his fingers on her pulsepint, Korra may as well be administering a polygraph. This is honest. This is real. ]

[The kiss doesn't take Korra by surprise; a part of her has seen it coming since he first touched her face. Her heart still skips (a chemical reaction) and she lets the coffee fall (she hadn't cared for it anyway). It splatters on the ground, pelleting her legs with bites of heat easily ignored. She wraps her arms around his waist and presses closer.

She returns his kiss, but it's not passionate so much as it is receptive. Willing, not eager. Her heart is too detached for real desire, but it feels nice and right now she'll take any distraction.]

[ Distantly, Hei registers Korra's coffee sloshing to the floor. Well, whatever. In an economy of motion, he sets his own cup on the empty table adjacent to them. Then his hand spans across her waist, pulling her closer. Fingers of the other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, thumb stroking under her jaw to angle her mouth just so, he kisses her harder, and thinks Stop, you fucking idiot and Oh I missed this. ]

[ The mouth, the body, he's grown used to them, but in that exciting Want More way, not in a bored way. Even after the decision to drop her like a bad habit, all of that is still inside him, messing him around. It feels so good but through that cut of want there's a sharp spike, too, of concern for her. It feels like such an ordinary thing that, later, it'll make him feel pathetic. Human. ]

[ Since when does BK201 care about someone else's feelings, after all? ]

[ His teeth barely scrape along her lower lip as the kiss ends, gently tugging at it before letting go. He feels her willingness, but also her detachment, and it makes him wary despite his selfish lust, like a suffusion of ink in water. ] Tell me something, Korra [ he asks, and it sounds like he's negotiating a business model rather than preparing to invite her to bed. ]

[Korra has missed this too. Any other time she would be frantic, needy, burning, but right now pleasure and want are dim & distant things.

She looks up at him, her eyes cloudy.]

What?

[ Hei doesn't draw away. Just lets his fingers skate through her hair, nails light on the nape of her neck. Under the harsh tang of hospital air and dried blood, she smells the way he remembers. Sweet, and somehow also wild, a scent he will forever associate with wilderness -- that freshness of winter and a spark of cut grass. Her body feels good too, curvy but strong, and that shape, in his arms, along with her scent, floods his mind with a jumble of conflicted wants. ]

[ He fights it off. Struggles to maintain rationality. Now is no time to lose his head. ]

When we get back to my place. I want to take you to bed. [ Ordinarily he's blunt enough to say I would like to fuck you. But he has a suspicion that might come off as too barbaric. No lie, fucking is his word of choice, and being barbaric has its high points. But there are moments when it shouldn't be referred to as what it is. ] Tell me now if that bothers you. If it does, I won't touch you again. We'll just go back, and you can shower, drink some tea, and crash on the couch.

[ Even if she agrees to the sex, it's her prerogative to change her mind -- during or after. He knows trauma is a lot like alcohol. Too much of it, and you make the shittiest choices. Intimacy can mean something one day, and something else the next. ]

Okay. [Her wording is ambiguous but her consent is clear. A part of her is almost surprised he's asking. He's acting like she didn't know that's what he wants, but what else have their kisses ever led to?

And she does want it. Not like she usually does, with physical ache and burning need. But she wants the distraction and the comfort, more than a shower and tea can provide.]

[ All their kisses have ever led to is fucking, it's true. But it seems masturbatory -- predacious -- to coax her to bed when her mind is half-unmoored. Sex is so laughably easy. Nearly mindless -- he's long since learnt how to use it as a tool for distraction, for blossoming false sentiment and solidifying false trust. But in the morning after, clarity can be like seeing a crackhead up close. Not that fucking attractive. ]

[ If Korra gets hit with a case of retro-cringe, at least he'll have the You knew what you were getting into card in play. ]

[ She says Okay, and he nods briefly before threading his arm through hers. Steers her through the predawn streets, quiet as a thief. It's only a short distance to his flat. He fishes out his keyring in the chilly hallway, and opens the door to usher her in.. All around them, the apartment is silent -- it drips with silence. As if it's suspended, from the street, from the City, maybe from the whole cosmos. ]

[ When he touches her arm, Hei feels hazy-heated, a kind of reined-in hot-eyed greed. But his tone is measured, his gaze calm as he regards her bloodstained clothes. ]

You'll need a shower.

[Korra doesn't notice the distance; all thought has been suspended. What attention she has is focused on the physical - his arm holding hers, putting one foot in front of the other. She hardly notices when they reach his apartment until they're inside.

When he speaks, she looks down. Right. She's still covered in Chekov's blood. It had become such a part of her, she'd forgotten it was even there, can't imagine it being gone.

She's more distracted by the change in his apartment.]

You got a pet.

[ Hei follows the direction of her gaze. The lizard -- whom he hasn't yet named -- slinks off to an alcove in its cage with reptilian indifference, tail swishing. ] It helps with the ticking. [ And it only took him seven months to condescend to admit it. Woohoo. Progress. Personally, he's bemused she noticed the pet at all. But he knows Korra is eager for any distraction. The terrible grief hovers around her like a raincloud; Hei knows it can't really be bypassed. Sooner or later the numbness will fade and she'll have to experience it. ]

[ Quietly, he steps up behind her. Holds her lightly by the elbows, as if they're going to slip into a slow back-to-front dance. Lowering his head, he presses his lips to the nape of her neck, through her hair, just at the border where fine down turns to soft skin. ]

Come on. Let's get you cleaned up.

[ It's not entirely a prurient interest. He knows what'll happen once she's alone with nothing but a mirror, bloodsplattered clothes, and her whirling thoughts. ]

[Her eyes drift shut with a soft exhale at the touch of his lips. She's curious about the lizard - Li never struck her as the pet type - but not enough to push. She leans back into him, and it's not resistance but an indication that she'll go where he leads. She's leaving herself in his hands.]

[ Leaving herself in his hands, as if she has absolutely no remote idea that he'd once made her death his priority. She knows, of course she does, but exhaustion and despair make her forget. Holding her so close makes him want to forget it too. Broken rafters -- damaged people -- are Hei's specialty. But he's usually one who causes the damage. Not the one cleaning it up. ]

[ There's a strangeness in this scenario that's as novel to him as it is for her. ]

[ In the bathroom, he directs her away from the mirror. Lowering the toilet lid to perch there, he tugs her closer by her hips. Undresses her with steady fingers; bottom to top. He can untie her boots with one hand while he tackles his own with the other. It's only a moment before he's dropped both pairs heavily on the tiles. Skinning down her blood-stiff jeans, he slides his palms up the outsides of her legs, ankles to hips, his thumbs resting on the jut of her hipbones. He kissed each ridge, feather-light, then rises, his hands still splayed there. Kisses her mouth, a soft pressure, a softer tongue -- warmth but no spiking heat. Not yet ]

[ Under the nurse's top, her undershirt is caked in dried blood. He peels it off carefully, before shedding the rest of his own clothes, and tosses the ball of wrinkled things into the laundry basket. It's not consideration, so Korra isn't reconfronted with the bloody garments if she returns to the bathroom. It's years of training, to dispose of the evidence linked to a crime scene. ]

[ In the shower, he steps behind her, not quite touching. Reaches past her head, and the spray comes on -- cold at first like a slap, then hotter. This close, her body is beyond pedestrian, beyond ignorable. But he tries to think clinically, tipping her head forward into the water-stream, his fingers combing through her hair. ]

[She rests her hands on his shoulders as he undresses her, both for balance and just for the sake of contact. Her skin burns where he touches her, palms and fingers and lips, and her limbs tingle as though they're starting to wake up.

It hurts.

The first shock of cold water makes her shiver, and even when the water warms, she can't stop shaking. The cold has eaten into her bones, in a place the water can't reach. Only his fingers, running through her hair, seem to break through.

She can feel his erection against her. She reaches back to brush her fingers against it.]

[ In the hot spray, Hei can feel her soft shape, beads of water rolling down her body, conducted with electric clarity against him. Sharp-toothed hunger suffuses him, tailed by keener heat as her fingers brush against his erection. His breathing shifts, not ragged but a shade out of sync. He lets her touch him for a moment, before he catches her hand in his. Gently squeezes her fingers, bringing them in front of her. ]

[ Slowly, he pressed himself closer, all the way down, feet bracketing hers, his erection trapped between their bodies and his arms laid over hers, warm face alongside her own. His skin is simmering; his heartbeat practically pulsates through the steamy air. ]

[ But he keeps his tone measured, ]

Don't distract me.

[ As if she isn't distracting enough. But the way she shakes is unnerving. So rattled, so full of cracks, like a glass that might shatter at a high note. He doesn't bother with the washcloth. Just soaps up his hands and applies them to her body. Careful, meticulous, the joint of his thumbs rubbing deep into each joint, back then front, up and down, aiming for deep-tissue relief and scrubbing the blood off more than anything. Once she's clean, he lathers her hair, his fingers digging with vigorous force into her scalp. ]

[ All the while, his body sings at a disturbing voltage. It'd be easy, so easy, to snug up tight against her, slide into her with one stroke, no condoms, no preliminaries, forcing her up on her tiptoes under the shower's hot spray. ]

[ He shuts the fantasy off. Now isn't the time to get over excited. ]

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening

Re: ⊕ march 15th, late evening

⊕ march 15th, late evening