[ Why bother? Good question. It would take him a heartbeat to piece together artful bullshit for an answer. If there's is anything BK201 excels at, it is the ability to sustain complex lies. Except the other thing he excels at, apparently, is his spectacular failure to either forget this girl or win her back. All his attempts to so far have ended in carnage and disaster. ]
[ Sometimes the literal type. ]
[ So he goes with: ]
I want to return your things.
[ You know: ex-girlfriend spoor. Clothes. Toiletries. The extra set of keys. That silly blue toothbrush with its mustache-shaped holder. The enormous foil-wrapped burrito bowl occupying three-fifths of the space in the fridge. ]
[There's nothing he has that she actually needs. She's already replaced the clothes, and that toothbrush & holder was 99 cents. There's nothing she misses ... except him.]
You know my address.
[By which she means just mail it to her, but the phrasing is ambiguous. She's doing a terrible job of not engaging.]
[ So: UPS? Delivery in-person? He can't tell. Hates the way a jumble of letters on a screen can stall his brain. Hates too, the opacity and one-dimensionalism that goes hand-in-hand with technology. Hei is good at dealing with people on a personal level. It's never words he's interested in, but their subtext. It's in the spaces between the delivery, the nuances of voice, body-language, expression, that you learn a target's weak-points. ]
[ Not that Korra is a target. But he's spent so long defining anyone beyond his team's sphere as such, that the distinction barely matters at this point. ]
[She should tell him to just mail it, or say she won't be home so just leave it at the door. This? All of this? Is the absolute wrong thing to do, and she knows it because they've danced this dance before. Never quite like this — their other breakups have basically been petty arguments in comparison — but this is how it happens. They argue, she decides never to see him again, he sends her a message and she's drawn right back in.
So instead of doing the smart thing, she's waiting for him at 5 o'clock. Determined to make this the last time he invades her life (and knowing that it won't be, because nothing about him is ever that easy).]
[ He's prepared to treat this as a job. No different from a bang-and-burn operation -- everything tough and efficient and mess-free. Just ring the doorbell, hand her the cardboard box of things, then go. No chitchat, no lingering. He doesn't have to be controlled by wayward impulse. Command over every iota of your -- (sentiments?) -- impulses may be an illusion. But Hei has always controlled himself largely by refusing to do anything but exactly what he wants to do. He isn't a gawking teenager whose voice has just cracked. There are always things he can do to create the right outcome. ]
[ Which outcome is that, exactly? ]
[ He stops at Korra's door and feels a renewal of ... (nervousness? anxiety?) ... something, as if passing that threshold and being enclosed in her space is like being submerged in volatile and unsteady headwaters. He is either going to float, or drown. ]
[ Shaking it off, he narrows his eyes. His calm knock isn't a lie. But neither is it the perfect truth. ]
[She practically opens the door before he can finish knocking.]
Hi.
[It's less angry than all of her text messages, less angry than all the things she wants to say because it's been a month since she's seen him last and having him standing there -- warm, alive, radiating energy -- throws her for a loop. For a moment she can't even remember why they're fighting.]
[ His pulse doesn't kick up -- but there is that half-familiar, thrilling tension locked in his chest. (It makes him furious with himself -- has it been that long since he's been out of the game?) Hei breathes slowly, his expression ironed flat under the weight of her gaze. As if it's nothing to see her after a whole month. As if the nostalgia isn't a hot ripcurl surging up his chest. Her face, framed in its streamers of dark fur, is as fresh and fine as ever, and her eyes hold that concentrated brightness that still unbalances him as surely as a sniper's beam. ]
[ There's a moment of frozen uncertainty. Korra's reflexes seem trapped by an unvoiced wish for more time, for a few more precious seconds to decide what to do. Hei decides faster. It isn't even a decision as such, more a reflex honed by a lifetime of offense/defense. A reflex that was delayed by his unaccustomed emotional state, but that now, as he recognizes the threat to his own equilibrium, snaps efficiently into place. ]
Here.
[ He hefts the cardboard box as if it's a needful barrier between them. ]
[ Hei compresses his lips and keeps his eyes fixed on the haphazard contents of the box -- rolled socks, spray-on deodorant, a comb with dark twines of hair, plain yet girlish underthings that in retrospect he should've kept as keepsakes. Anything to focus on so he won't have to answer Korra's question. He knows what she's referring to. Her tension practically buzzes through the air as if she's ready for a physical fight. ]
[ Except Hei knows he isn't the opponent she wants. She just seems angry and lost and in need of reassurance. For a beat he verges on touching her. That habitual boyfriend-ly itch to soothe her nervous energy. Forcibly, he aborts the reflex. ]
I have no idea what you mean.
[ Matter-of-fact tone. Dismissive body-language. The classic We are not having this conversation. ]
Don't give me that crap. [She knocks the box out of his hands, needing him to look her in the eye.] You killed someone. And don't try and tell me it doesn't matter because he'll come back as City!Dead. I've been City!dead, and I wouldn't wish it on anybody.
[ The box tumbles from his hands, its contents scattering in every direction. Hei's jaw briefly twitches in anger, the muscles in his shoulders flexing beneath 'Li's oversized green hoodie as if he is considering attacking her. Instead he relaxes abruptly, as if he's swallowed a sedative pill. It's hard to take these bursts of violence seriously. It's practically the tantrum of rowdy toddler. It's not worth it to aim for that weak spot of hers, either -- her soft, privileged idealist's need to deny the tactical realities of war. ]
[ Not that killing Zaheer was an act of warfare. It was more Hei being unable to manage his insecurity, protectiveness, and other unfamiliar emotions, then winding up using his professional talents for deeply personal vendettas. ]
[ Exhaling, he kneels to gather up the fallen knickknacks. Doesn't look her in the eye. ]
[ Hei's composed expression has given way to a tired blandness. Typical child: so obsessed with her own idealism she is incapable of grasping the dangers right under her nose. ]
He was biding his time.
[ All Zaheer needed was the right opportunity to escape. A appropriate curse, a misstep among the prison guards, a lapse of security... Any risk of that happening outweighed Hei's usual indulgence toward Korra' overdeveloped conscience, her sentimentality, and his own thrice-damned ambivalent streak which the City's sheltered environment were only worsening. ]
So what, is that giant potted plant on the 10th floor biding its time before falling on my head? Are you just biding your time before killing me in my sleep? With that kind of attitude, everything is a threat!
[ The anger Hei is trying to contain nearly bursts through. Forcibly, he counts his breaths, slowly getting them down to five a minute. Then he unclenches his hands from around the fallen knickknacks, and drops them back in the box. The hollow thunk is oddly final. ]
[ Without meeting her gaze, he rises, jerking the full box into her hands. Part of him wants to pick apart the fallacy of her argument, to remind her that Zaheer isn't a fucking potted plant but a real and undeniable threat to her safety. But another part of him knows that if she starts off mining that rich conversational seam, she'll understand the sentiment weighing his actions. She'll realize that he was motivated by nothing beyond the fact that he stood to lose her. ]
[ To strike on impulse is to invite disaster. A dictum he's lived by all his life. Or had -- until he'd arrived in the City, which is a disaster-zone in and of itself. ]
[She wants to scream. She wants to punch his stupid face, kick him in the balls, and beat him up until he starts making some fucking sense. She wants to go back to a time before Zaheer arrived in the City, when things were still complicated and painful but fixable.]
Just ... stay out of my life. [It's the exact opposite of what she wants, but it's what needs to happen.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
>3
Date: 2016-03-18 01:51 am (UTC)[ Sometimes the literal type. ]
[ So he goes with: ]
I want to return your things.
[ You know: ex-girlfriend spoor. Clothes. Toiletries. The extra set of keys. That silly blue toothbrush with its mustache-shaped holder. The enormous foil-wrapped burrito bowl occupying three-fifths of the space in the fridge. ]
[ Oh wait. He already ate that. Oops. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-03-18 02:08 am (UTC)You know my address.
[By which she means just mail it to her, but the phrasing is ambiguous. She's doing a terrible job of not engaging.]
no subject
Date: 2016-03-21 04:02 am (UTC)[ Not that Korra is a target. But he's spent so long defining anyone beyond his team's sphere as such, that the distinction barely matters at this point. ]
[ Which is why all he thumbs out is: ]
I'll drop by at 5.
at some point we'll have to figure out why they're fighting
Date: 2016-03-23 01:32 am (UTC)So instead of doing the smart thing, she's waiting for him at 5 o'clock. Determined to make this the last time he invades her life (and knowing that it won't be, because nothing about him is ever that easy).]
he probably killed someone she knew... again... 8'')
Date: 2016-03-24 04:25 am (UTC)[ Which outcome is that, exactly? ]
[ He stops at Korra's door and feels a renewal of ... (nervousness? anxiety?) ... something, as if passing that threshold and being enclosed in her space is like being submerged in volatile and unsteady headwaters. He is either going to float, or drown. ]
[ Shaking it off, he narrows his eyes. His calm knock isn't a lie. But neither is it the perfect truth. ]
Hopefully not Naga
Date: 2016-03-25 03:58 am (UTC)Hi.
[It's less angry than all of her text messages, less angry than all the things she wants to say because it's been a month since she's seen him last and having him standing there -- warm, alive, radiating energy -- throws her for a loop. For a moment she can't even remember why they're fighting.]
he'd be dead already if he had 8'(
Date: 2016-03-25 05:39 am (UTC)[ There's a moment of frozen uncertainty. Korra's reflexes seem trapped by an unvoiced wish for more time, for a few more precious seconds to decide what to do. Hei decides faster. It isn't even a decision as such, more a reflex honed by a lifetime of offense/defense. A reflex that was delayed by his unaccustomed emotional state, but that now, as he recognizes the threat to his own equilibrium, snaps efficiently into place. ]
Here.
[ He hefts the cardboard box as if it's a needful barrier between them. ]
true that
Date: 2016-03-26 04:16 am (UTC)Why? Why did you do it? [She doesn't need the stuff; she needs an answer she can understand.]
maybe he killed zaheer ... after wrecking half the city in the process...
Date: 2016-03-27 05:34 am (UTC)[ Except Hei knows he isn't the opponent she wants. She just seems angry and lost and in need of reassurance. For a beat he verges on touching her. That habitual boyfriend-ly itch to soothe her nervous energy. Forcibly, he aborts the reflex. ]
I have no idea what you mean.
[ Matter-of-fact tone. Dismissive body-language. The classic We are not having this conversation. ]
pffft also setting this in Poly!City
Date: 2016-03-29 12:58 am (UTC)excellent at some point he will get cursed and start singing at her >3
Date: 2016-04-04 03:37 am (UTC)[ Not that killing Zaheer was an act of warfare. It was more Hei being unable to manage his insecurity, protectiveness, and other unfamiliar emotions, then winding up using his professional talents for deeply personal vendettas. ]
[ Exhaling, he kneels to gather up the fallen knickknacks. Doesn't look her in the eye. ]
We've been over this before.
[ Ad nauseum. ]
a million years later i respond
Date: 2016-04-21 02:09 am (UTC)Steve arrested him. He was in prison. He wasn't in any position to hurt me. He wasn't a threat!
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 02:10 am (UTC)He was biding his time.
[ All Zaheer needed was the right opportunity to escape. A appropriate curse, a misstep among the prison guards, a lapse of security... Any risk of that happening outweighed Hei's usual indulgence toward Korra' overdeveloped conscience, her sentimentality, and his own thrice-damned ambivalent streak which the City's sheltered environment were only worsening. ]
no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-05-08 04:39 am (UTC)[ Without meeting her gaze, he rises, jerking the full box into her hands. Part of him wants to pick apart the fallacy of her argument, to remind her that Zaheer isn't a fucking potted plant but a real and undeniable threat to her safety. But another part of him knows that if she starts off mining that rich conversational seam, she'll understand the sentiment weighing his actions. She'll realize that he was motivated by nothing beyond the fact that he stood to lose her. ]
[ To strike on impulse is to invite disaster. A dictum he's lived by all his life. Or had -- until he'd arrived in the City, which is a disaster-zone in and of itself. ]
[ Flatly, ]
Think what you like.
no subject
Date: 2016-05-10 12:14 am (UTC)Just ... stay out of my life. [It's the exact opposite of what she wants, but it's what needs to happen.]