poly_chromatic | ♦♦ 35TH CONTRACT - ANONYMOUS TEXT - Slightly Forwarded to before the 27th

It was
a pleasure
to burn

[ A mockery? A salutation? A farewell? Perhaps all three. ]

[ Or perhaps, completely separately, it works for Hei as a statement about his time in the City -- and how he's lived it. He hasn't always embraced it. More often than not, he's been measured and withdrawn. But strangely enough, he's not proud of those times when he's guarded himself against experience. Because although being measured was the rational decision, it was never a pleasure. The times here when he's had the courage to give of himself and experience something without the obstruction of barbed wire and concrete walls has, literally, been like 'burning.' It hasn't been a pleasure in the simple sense of happiness, but in the greater sense of being memorable, mind-altering. Even transgressive. ]

[ He feels that way now. Like he's coming out of a silent stretch of hibernation -- months, years, of being measured, of keeping himself apart. ]

[ Maybe he wants to 'burn' again. ]

[ (Or maybe you're all reading too deeply into it. Maybe he's obliquely advising his teammates on what to do with his body if he accidentally dies during the hullabaloo here.) ]

[ (Don't bury him.) ]

[ ooc: post to tie up loose ends with cr, mostly. Open to action if you want to run into him wherever<3 ]

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[It's not generally advisable to sneak up on assassins and hug them. As such, Chekov makes sure that he's sufficiently loud and visible as he approaches Hei and... well, hugs him.]

[ Not advisable at all. ]

[ But hey. It's the City. The laws are always rewriting themselves. Besides; Pavel gives him ample opportunity to hear him coming. He intuits that this isn't an ambush. Except he's not anticipating. Well. That. ]

[ Hei blinks as he comes forward, an awkward lunge, hugging him. He's conscious of his own stiff contours, bone and hard angles, and those of Pavel's -- almost a boy's body not yet fleshed into adult. After a beat, he catches Pavel by the shoulders, edging him away. The gesture is as mild as milk, although there's a glint of something wary in his eyes. ]

Has someone died?

[ Because that's usually what calls for spontaneous physicality, in Hei's opinion. (But mostly? Not even then.) ]

What? No. I don't think so.

[He's perfectly okay with being removed from Hei's person. He obviously isn't a hugging person, which is the only reason Chekov has not hugged him before. Chekov is a fan of spontaneous physicality, but he does know when to reign it in.

Now is not the time.]

I will miss you.

[Chekov has actually had to think about this to make sure it's true. Hei isn't a great person, but he's a friend. Kind of. Enough of a kindred spirit that, if Pavel retains his memories, he will be missed.]

[ Physicality is a neutral thing, for Hei. Contact is a commodity in his world, and perhaps staying apart is his way of trying not to devalue it. (Still. Now isn't the time.) ]

[ Pavel says, I will miss you, and he blinks again. But the admission isn't a surprise. Just that pattern of Goodbye he's both faked and sincerely felt, time and time again. He doesn't step closer into Pavel's orbit. But he doesn't retreat, either. Standing under the pale circle of the streetlamp, he is like a stature: still and alien. But there's some part of him -- the set of his shoulders, the wry little way his mouth quirks -- that suggests he feels the same. Even if sentimentality doesn't run deep in his bones, he's human enough to indulge in a facsimile of it. To feel a faint sensation of being knocked off-balance. No more Pavel. Hard to accept, because he's been part of -- of this, of all of Hei's experience in the City: a bright, chattersome, steady presence through it all. ]

[ Hei looks at him and it's hard to tell if he's trying to speak or just parsing out something. But words haven't always been so necessary, in his profession. ]

[ Instead, quietly: ] You'll return to Starfleet. [ It's not a question. ]

[For his part, Pavel is nothing but sincere, and he takes Hei's subtle reaction as a sign that he will miss him, too, in his own way. It may only be in the way in which one misses a piece of furniture that has been around for a while, but missing is missing.

Chekov nods in response.] I will, yes. [As sure and level as he sounds, he clearly isn't eager to leave (or to leave people behind).] Where will you go?

[ It's true. Hei measures a person's worth according to their usefulness. Anything else is sentiment, after all, and that sticky trap only gets you killed. But for as long as he's been here, Korra and Pavel, like his team in Tokyo, have slowly been rupturing his conviction that he can trust no one, rely on no one -- a conviction that's central to his worldview. Hei could've emerged from the whole experience either falling-apart or functional. He went with functional -- albeit kicking and screaming all the way. It's enough to fill him with a sharp, dizzying surge of gratitude. But of course, Hei being Hei, all he does is hum absently. ]

[ The reluctance in Pavel's tone doesn't go unnoticed. But Hei supposes the least he can do is not prod his fingers into that threadbare emotional fabric. Instead, in a tone that's more contained that offhand, ]

Haven't decided yet. [ It's less about hesitance, more about trying to make the best possible choice. Because it's not just his own welfare and obligations that need considering. It's the safety of his teammates. ]

[ A beat, before he hitches a shoulder. ]

Maybe I'll flip a coin.

[ Yeah. No. ]

[Chekov smiles at the idea of Hei allowing a coin to choose where he goes. As if he would allow fate to make a choice when he's capable of making the most logical choice circumstances allow for.]

Have you decided who you will be leaving with?

[Genuine curiosity here. Pavel has guesses, but no certainties. It's not as if anyone tells him what's going on in the Hei-Pai-Korra loop.]

[ It may be their last day in the City. But Hei still operates on caution and restraint. He can't tell Pavel about his teammates -- or that their security depends entirely on where he chooses to go. Certainly won't tell Pavel that if it were up to him -- if he had no obligations entombing him -- he'd return to his homeworld. It's not the logical choice, but the right one. Hei believes in balances -- debts versus profits, blood versus life. By no means does he believe he's off the hook for all the atrocities of his past. Returning home, to the urban jungles that shaped him and pared him down to what he is ... It is fitting. ]

[ History is crowded with men who've fled blood debts. If he goes somewhere new, somewhere peaceful, he can only pay back in increments what he stole. In hours and days. Decades of paying back what is essentially un-repayable. ]

[ So he has to choose. Between sinking back into the trap of his world. Letting inertia lock him into resignation there. Or shaking it loose. Taking the chance to free himself and start over somewhere fresh -- with his team. ]

[ There's a long pause. He almost smiles, in the end -- tired and rueful. ]

Wherever I go, I know Pai's not coming.

[ That's already been agreed upon. Some people, you just can't leave. Their specific gravity is too strong, keeping you locked in orbit. You've got to be launched out, like a circus performer from a cannon. The only reason he and Pai are able to endure that separation ... is because they understand you can only move forward once you're unfettered by that gravity. ]

♦♦ 35TH CONTRACT - ANONYMOUS TEXT - Slightly Forwarded to before the 27th

action somewhere

somewheeeeeeere~

ooooout there~

over the rainbow?

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