[ A cool furl of interest goes through Hei at Mako's endearing display of alpha-male chest-thumping. Ah, to be young, dumb, and full of cum, your hormones screaming in your veins like four-year olds pitching a tantrum at the supermarket. If the haze of resentment weren't clouding Mako's judgement, if he stepped back and assessed the situation with his primitive midbrain, he'd catch the latent vibes Hei isn't bothering to disguise. Except he's an utter blockhead by the looks of it, and lovestruck besides, so rather than running for the hills the way his far more sensible ancestors might have, he is trying to pick a fight with an obvious predator. ]
[ So much for that 'stranger-danger' radar these streetkids are famous for. ]
[ With expressionless regard, he watches Korra steer Mako away. Doesn't respond to her scolding words, except to tip his shoulder -- concession, dismissal. When she settles at the floor by his feet, he's a touch startled. In light of the awkward currents dancing in the air, he was expecting her to remain at a distance from both him and Mako. That she doesn't is telling. ]
[ He pauses a beat, then, almost as if petting a cat, lets his fingers curl around to bunch in the loose hair on her nape. Lets them rest there in an assurance and an imperative. He can feel the blood seeping down from his brain as his gaze settles on her -- idle, speculative. Her wild hair is haloed with honey-brown wisps, skin all dewy with a freshly-fucked glow, and with the sheet wrapped around her, she looks like a sultan's favorite concubine, lounging around, a private harem of one. ]
[ In a different tone, more private, as if Mako is no longer in the room, he says, ]
I could order up a meal. They can deliver it from the window.
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Date: 2014-10-23 04:13 am (UTC)[ So much for that 'stranger-danger' radar these streetkids are famous for. ]
[ With expressionless regard, he watches Korra steer Mako away. Doesn't respond to her scolding words, except to tip his shoulder -- concession, dismissal. When she settles at the floor by his feet, he's a touch startled. In light of the awkward currents dancing in the air, he was expecting her to remain at a distance from both him and Mako. That she doesn't is telling. ]
[ He pauses a beat, then, almost as if petting a cat, lets his fingers curl around to bunch in the loose hair on her nape. Lets them rest there in an assurance and an imperative. He can feel the blood seeping down from his brain as his gaze settles on her -- idle, speculative. Her wild hair is haloed with honey-brown wisps, skin all dewy with a freshly-fucked glow, and with the sheet wrapped around her, she looks like a sultan's favorite concubine, lounging around, a private harem of one. ]
[ In a different tone, more private, as if Mako is no longer in the room, he says, ]
I could order up a meal. They can deliver it from the window.