[ The expectation of full disclosure sizzles in her words. Hei's hands curl and uncurl around the steering wheel. His expression stays one of flat, stone-faced order, and he refrains from pointing out that unless she shuts up, he knows at least twenty ways to knock her unconscious with the heel of his palm. ]
[ He doesn't, though. He keeps his eyes fixed on the glowing yellow line of the road, the silence between them a heavy thing, filled as if with mute rhythms of a countdown -- the signal of either an eruption or a disgorgement. ]
[ Eventually, ]
NC108 -- [ The words start out bland, conveying nothing but the coldest professional warning. The facade doesn't last. An exhale, a few beats, before his look dissolves into something quieter, almost weary, ] Look. Some things are need-to-know only. And you don't need to know. [ Questions are dangerous things: sometimes blindly, sometimes falteringly, but somehow instinctively, they have a way of leading you back to the truth. And the truth is something he'd prefer to keep this girl -- a neophyte, barely a child -- far away from. ]
Like they say, you can't go home again. You're as aware of that as I am, Korra.
[ He feels words stick like barbs in his throat, without knowing why. He can't remember if he's ever spoken her name before today. The way he voices it, exhales it at wistful leisure over his tongue, it almost becomes an endearment. (But is it sincere? No. Yes. Maybe. If that's what you want to hear.) ]
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Date: 2015-03-24 02:58 am (UTC)[ He doesn't, though. He keeps his eyes fixed on the glowing yellow line of the road, the silence between them a heavy thing, filled as if with mute rhythms of a countdown -- the signal of either an eruption or a disgorgement. ]
[ Eventually, ]
NC108 -- [ The words start out bland, conveying nothing but the coldest professional warning. The facade doesn't last. An exhale, a few beats, before his look dissolves into something quieter, almost weary, ] Look. Some things are need-to-know only. And you don't need to know. [ Questions are dangerous things: sometimes blindly, sometimes falteringly, but somehow instinctively, they have a way of leading you back to the truth. And the truth is something he'd prefer to keep this girl -- a neophyte, barely a child -- far away from. ]
Like they say, you can't go home again. You're as aware of that as I am, Korra.
[ He feels words stick like barbs in his throat, without knowing why. He can't remember if he's ever spoken her name before today. The way he voices it, exhales it at wistful leisure over his tongue, it almost becomes an endearment. (But is it sincere? No. Yes. Maybe. If that's what you want to hear.) ]