[ Hei watches Chekov scurry off to help the fallen. His expression -- sharp and immobile -- might convey either complete indifference or a weary disdain. But all Hei is, is contemplative. Far as he's come in allowing those brief, tremulous shudders of kindness under his surface to blossom into action, he still lacks the ready empathy to help anyone beyond his private orbit. Chekov's helpfulness is pure saccharine. But what that means to him is moot. ]
[ (It makes the younger man predictable. Makes him easier to exploit. Once, Hei would've been glad he was incapable of either tactical failing. Now he resolves only to wear aces up his sleeves, never his heart. It's safer that way -- for him, and for those he cares about.) ]
[ The meat of the metalguard's thigh is ragged, most of the flesh blown clear off the bone. The femur shines wetly in the crisp sunlight, red muscle encased in a thin layer of adipose tissue. He can see a white blood vessel sticking out of the mess, blood spritzing from the vein like water from a spigot. Hei has seen wounds like this past counting, in all their gruesome variety. The making of them is his profession. ]
[ He knows the kid will die, no matter how high or tight the tourniquet is. In Chekov's place, he'd be more inclined to zap the kid -- flipping his lights off like a switch. Mercy is better than a slow death. ]
[ Instead, he says flatly, ]
Don't fall behind.
[ Without a glance, he takes off -- heading for the city's exit. Dealing with the casualties isn't his concern. Korra is. He needs to find her -- and make sure Zaheer hasn't gotten his hands on her. ]
no subject
[ (It makes the younger man predictable. Makes him easier to exploit. Once, Hei would've been glad he was incapable of either tactical failing. Now he resolves only to wear aces up his sleeves, never his heart. It's safer that way -- for him, and for those he cares about.) ]
[ The meat of the metalguard's thigh is ragged, most of the flesh blown clear off the bone. The femur shines wetly in the crisp sunlight, red muscle encased in a thin layer of adipose tissue. He can see a white blood vessel sticking out of the mess, blood spritzing from the vein like water from a spigot. Hei has seen wounds like this past counting, in all their gruesome variety. The making of them is his profession. ]
[ He knows the kid will die, no matter how high or tight the tourniquet is. In Chekov's place, he'd be more inclined to zap the kid -- flipping his lights off like a switch. Mercy is better than a slow death. ]
[ Instead, he says flatly, ]
Don't fall behind.
[ Without a glance, he takes off -- heading for the city's exit. Dealing with the casualties isn't his concern. Korra is. He needs to find her -- and make sure Zaheer hasn't gotten his hands on her. ]