[ Hei bites the inside of his cheek. He can never predict when Korra might decide she's being indulged, versus when she feels she's being outright mollycoddled, but he prefers not to tiptoe around it the way her friends do. Like them, he simply wants her to get better. It's natural for him to hinge his hopes on her offhand comments and little remarks, so he can ease her through that journey -- a perpetual work in-progress. ]

[ The ramp creaks under their footsteps, and he spares it a glance. To Korra: ] I'll handle it. [ A Don't trouble yourself in so many words. Carefully, he eases her onto the sofa, where the cat springs out from under a colorful heap of cushions, a predictable spill of silky white fur and needy meows as it circles his feet. ]

[ Ignoring it, Hei kneels before Korra, both hands loosely splayed on her hips. His gaze shades into something both consolatory and conspiratory. ]

You don't have to do woodwork in the shed. I could teach you how to make smoke-bombs. Fireworks. Chemical kraken monsters. Carbon prints on the porch. Lightning-storms in bottles.

[ He is, for the record, perfectly serious. ]