[ He's determined for the Equalist threat to die a stillborn death. But that doesn't preclude other threats around the corner. With the way Hei has survived, he is always preparing, contingency plans unspooling in his mind and mapped out in practical steps in every sphere of his routine. The constancy of danger and the certainty of how he will deal with it is a familiar, awful superstructure to his life, and at some level he acknowledges that he's preparing at every stage of his existence, whatever lulls of peace he briefly indulges in about as meaningful and relevant as dreams. Only the preparation exists as a home truth -- the preparation, and the purpose it yields. ]

[ At Korra's words, he smiles with a faint affection -- but only because there's something bittersweet about her optimism, her clear-eyed hopefulness. He regards not her face but her hand, curled in his, the knuckles solid under his stroking thumb, the skin like hot calloused velvet. ]

[ Dryly, ]

There's no guarantee they'll stay quiet. A back-up plan is necessary. [ Lifting her palm, he presses a kiss to the center, idle habit meeting sincerity. ] You'll get sloppy as a stay-at-home mom. I don't want that for you. Better to stay in fighting trim.