[ While she stomps and shrieks -- (from avenging valkyrie to tantrum-prone teenager in 0.6 seconds) -- he carefully daubs his face with a handkerchief. His thought tick over, gaze fixed on the woman's tight, stoic face. He doubts she'll crack easy. But with time, she will. Because they all do. She's probably been scrapping since childhood, punched and kicked, sliced a few times. Maybe her father used her as a punching bag and she's thinking I know pain, tasted it, not afraid to taste it again. But she doesn't know pain. None of them do; not really. Hei teaches them. ]
[ But not with Korra in the room. ]
[ Rising, he regards the woman a moment more: all calculation and under-the-surface anger. Then, to Korra: ]
The kid already told me where he is. The storage area behind the rally building. [ There's a beat, as he glances around the room. Battered walls. Sprawled bodies -- some motionless, others twitching. The flayed red thing on the tanning bed. For a moment he wonders what might happen if he were to take this new, stripped-down target -- this air-bending female -- and place her in another tanning bed. Would she crack easier than the Rich Kid did? Would she give birth to yet another, smaller, more agonized, less human version of herself? How many layers would she possess? He thinks of a Russian doll, one inside another, smaller and smaller, until you reach the true center. And he's tempted, on a remote level, but a nagging sense of caution prevents him from peeling this woman down to her very core. ]
[ Now isn't the time or the place. He'll need to drag her somewhere completely sealed. Question her in detail. In the meanwhile: ]
I'll come with you.
[ After a quick detour to drop this air-bender off at one of his makeshift torture-cells in the city. ]
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Date: 2014-08-13 09:46 pm (UTC)[ While she stomps and shrieks -- (from avenging valkyrie to tantrum-prone teenager in 0.6 seconds) -- he carefully daubs his face with a handkerchief. His thought tick over, gaze fixed on the woman's tight, stoic face. He doubts she'll crack easy. But with time, she will. Because they all do. She's probably been scrapping since childhood, punched and kicked, sliced a few times. Maybe her father used her as a punching bag and she's thinking I know pain, tasted it, not afraid to taste it again. But she doesn't know pain. None of them do; not really. Hei teaches them. ]
[ But not with Korra in the room. ]
[ Rising, he regards the woman a moment more: all calculation and under-the-surface anger. Then, to Korra: ]
The kid already told me where he is. The storage area behind the rally building. [ There's a beat, as he glances around the room. Battered walls. Sprawled bodies -- some motionless, others twitching. The flayed red thing on the tanning bed. For a moment he wonders what might happen if he were to take this new, stripped-down target -- this air-bending female -- and place her in another tanning bed. Would she crack easier than the Rich Kid did? Would she give birth to yet another, smaller, more agonized, less human version of herself? How many layers would she possess? He thinks of a Russian doll, one inside another, smaller and smaller, until you reach the true center. And he's tempted, on a remote level, but a nagging sense of caution prevents him from peeling this woman down to her very core. ]
[ Now isn't the time or the place. He'll need to drag her somewhere completely sealed. Question her in detail. In the meanwhile: ]
I'll come with you.
[ After a quick detour to drop this air-bender off at one of his makeshift torture-cells in the city. ]