[ He blinks as she storms out, repressing the urge to roll his eyes. Such a delicate fucking flower. Except he can't blame her for this outpouring of vitriol. He'd let her down by keeping away, by refusing to grieve with her. Even now, he feels insufficient to keep her. And he thinks that if he were in Korra's shoes, he'd be feeling the pressing need to get rid of him, too. (Yet there's that petulance, that sound and fury, that he's missed, something that cracks open a small blossom of tenderness in his chest. Yet it's impossible to ignore the fact that he's hurt her by keeping away.) ]
[ He drifts after her calmly, keeping his body-language neutral, non-threatening. Even so, he maintains a radius of space around him as if readied to draw a weapon, to turn with arms extended and lash, grab, defend -- in case she tries to make a break for it, or in case someone springs an attack on them. ]
[ A couple of beats pass, wreathed in tentative silence. Then: ]
How... how have you been feeling?
[ Physically. Emotionally. Part of him still feels sunk in the denial that the baby's dead and gone; he wonders what it's like for her, especially when she'd had to endure that brutal leavetaking, to suffer its intimate violence afterward. ]
no subject
[ He drifts after her calmly, keeping his body-language neutral, non-threatening. Even so, he maintains a radius of space around him as if readied to draw a weapon, to turn with arms extended and lash, grab, defend -- in case she tries to make a break for it, or in case someone springs an attack on them. ]
[ A couple of beats pass, wreathed in tentative silence. Then: ]
How... how have you been feeling?
[ Physically. Emotionally. Part of him still feels sunk in the denial that the baby's dead and gone; he wonders what it's like for her, especially when she'd had to endure that brutal leavetaking, to suffer its intimate violence afterward. ]