[ Intellectually, Hei's aware of where City Dead go after vanishing. A sort of limbo -- an aether between the City and their own homeworlds. He'd press Yin for details, except right now he's in no mood. It's his fault she's in this state to begin with. It seems like gratuitous cruelty to make her recount where she's been, and to rub his own face in being the catalyst. ]
[ What's done is done. She's here right now. That's all that matters. ]
[ Somewhere in the midst of Yin's statement -- I won't by choice -- Hei's pulled her close again. Not as tight as before, but enough to let himself relax a little, to welcome the cool feathery rub of her hair against his chin. Her familiar scent mingles with his own muted sweat and the staleness of a sleepless night. Apart from the shadows under his eyes, and a particular bilge from the Underground clinging to his hair and skin, he's no different from before. But if he could read her thoughts, he'd snort at the idea of being a person. In her absence, he works and functions as well as ever. But when not working, he's become shadowy. He lives his ordinary life on standby. ]
[ He has no ordinary life. Yin's absence has made that clear. ]
[ After a beat, he lets her go. Stoops to gather her discarded stockings and shoes. He doesn't order her to slip them on. Instead, kneeling, he does it himself, letting her hands settle on his shoulders for balance. Simple movement. Matter-of-fact silence. Something to do so he won't start flailing her with more embarrassing overwraught words. ]
action;
[ What's done is done. She's here right now. That's all that matters. ]
[ Somewhere in the midst of Yin's statement -- I won't by choice -- Hei's pulled her close again. Not as tight as before, but enough to let himself relax a little, to welcome the cool feathery rub of her hair against his chin. Her familiar scent mingles with his own muted sweat and the staleness of a sleepless night. Apart from the shadows under his eyes, and a particular bilge from the Underground clinging to his hair and skin, he's no different from before. But if he could read her thoughts, he'd snort at the idea of being a person. In her absence, he works and functions as well as ever. But when not working, he's become shadowy. He lives his ordinary life on standby. ]
[ He has no ordinary life. Yin's absence has made that clear. ]
[ After a beat, he lets her go. Stoops to gather her discarded stockings and shoes. He doesn't order her to slip them on. Instead, kneeling, he does it himself, letting her hands settle on his shoulders for balance. Simple movement. Matter-of-fact silence. Something to do so he won't start flailing her with more embarrassing overwraught words. ]