[ As far as he's concerned, she knew what she was getting into the moment she asked to be choked. It's her own naivete that prevented her from grasping the broader consequences. She knows he's untrustworthy. She knows he's a liar. She knows he has a malicious streak a mile wide. Yet she wanted, despite all the red flags, to gamble with her safety, in the guise of frivolous experimentation. ]
[ Had she forgotten whom she was dealing with? Forgotten what he was -- is -- dealing with? ]
[ Fuckheaded girl. Hei can taste his rage, bubbling in a cold effervescence in his veins. It really is true: the only people to seek out their endangerment are those who can afford to do so. It reminds him of those BDSM clubs he's seen in the West: watching all those white, upper-middle class twats from so-called developed nations beat, whip, and sexually objectify each other in a supposedly civilized fashion. Were they true aficionados of human degradation, they could have paid for a visit to a local prison, or walked through a slum. But no -- you can't brag about that in private chatrooms or public bars. ]
[ When he speaks, his voice is a hooked barb, ]
You've always had choices. Not my problem you're too stupid to make the smart ones.
[ (She had the choice to say Stop. At any time. But she didn't. She just expected him to handle her with kid-gloves, to treat her with the same regard he'd lavished on Amber, even though she's not Amber in any sense, and has done little to deserve such affection. Special treatment is earned, not bestowed for free.) ]
[ He doesn't say that. It's been a long night; all he wants is an icy-cold drink, a hot bath, and sleep. He's tired of dealing with pampered princesses, their moonbrained moods, and all the headaches they bring. When Korra moves, he steps past her and out the door. Not through it, and that is something -- but it slams into the wall, probably kicked, the crash echoing all the way down the corridor. ]
no subject
[ Had she forgotten whom she was dealing with? Forgotten what he was -- is -- dealing with? ]
[ Fuckheaded girl. Hei can taste his rage, bubbling in a cold effervescence in his veins. It really is true: the only people to seek out their endangerment are those who can afford to do so. It reminds him of those BDSM clubs he's seen in the West: watching all those white, upper-middle class twats from so-called developed nations beat, whip, and sexually objectify each other in a supposedly civilized fashion. Were they true aficionados of human degradation, they could have paid for a visit to a local prison, or walked through a slum. But no -- you can't brag about that in private chatrooms or public bars. ]
[ When he speaks, his voice is a hooked barb, ]
You've always had choices. Not my problem you're too stupid to make the smart ones.
[ (She had the choice to say Stop. At any time. But she didn't. She just expected him to handle her with kid-gloves, to treat her with the same regard he'd lavished on Amber, even though she's not Amber in any sense, and has done little to deserve such affection. Special treatment is earned, not bestowed for free.) ]
[ He doesn't say that. It's been a long night; all he wants is an icy-cold drink, a hot bath, and sleep. He's tired of dealing with pampered princesses, their moonbrained moods, and all the headaches they bring. When Korra moves, he steps past her and out the door. Not through it, and that is something -- but it slams into the wall, probably kicked, the crash echoing all the way down the corridor. ]