[Staying friends with Hei interminably takes more than selflessness. Call it idiocy, optimism, masochism, misplaced faith, what have you; it's a form of Stockholm syndrome that bypasses kidnapping entirely. A lack of abuse can be mistaken for kindness.
Pavel scrutinizes Hei's face, looking for a loophole or a flicker of indecision that he already knows he won't find. He wants to stubbornly insist that he isn't going to agree to such a thing, but Hei's request seems sincere. Denying him would be a small cruelty.] Okay. I will try.
[ It's more than Stockholm syndrome. It's the extremely human trap of familiarity. People like what that they're accustomed to. They often pick the same thing off the menu, take the same routes to work, and prefer to invest -- financially or emotionally -- in the well-known and usual. This bias extends, unfortunately, to people. It lets a psychological autopilot kick in; enabling you to make the faulty assumption that just because you're familiar with someone, he or she must be safe. What's the saying? He may be a monster, but he's our monster. ]
[ It's no different here. ]
[ He's glad Pavel's smart enough not to argue. Has no doubt that the young man will try -- though success is a different story -- because in extremis, ideals and attachments don't matter. Your survival does. Safeguarding it is an imperative, as natural as breathing. Hei would know. He's committed so many atrocities, in the name of self-defense. The trick is living with the memories, afterward. But he has plenty of practice there too. ]
Good, [ he says, and the word is quiet and flat as a full-stop. End of discussion. Fishing in his coat pocket, he withdraws a clinking set of keys -- one black, two red. These are tossed Pavel's way. ] In the meantime, here's something to make your future escapes easier.
Pavel catches the keys. While he can certainly make guesses as to what they're for--Hei seems most comfortable apologizing with gifts, and there aren't that many gifts that require keys--he feels it polite to ask.] What do these go to?
[ Hei functions on tangibles, not symbolism. He likes physical trades. Gifts are the easiest way to settle a debt, especially when Thank You's or I Appreciate It's hold little weight in his vocabulary. (Maybe one day he'll learn that not everything is so starkly delineated in terms of Useful and Useless. Maybe one day he'll learn that gifts are neither dangerous betrayals of sentiment, nor reconfirmations of status quo. That they're just that -- gifts. Signs of indulgence and dollops of normalcy.) ]
[ But that day isn't today. ]
The first key is to a bike. You'll find it in the parking lot. [ Easy to spot. It's the only bike there. And the design is rather distinctive. ] The two reds aren't keys. They're RDX-based explosives. Detonated by the keyblade. Twist and pull, then toss at the target. [ Pound for pound, aluminized RDX is about six times more powerful than C-4. It blows big and blows wide. ] You can replace them with substances of your choice. Or not use them at all. Your call.
Pavel is suitably impressed by the expensive (or stolen, or traded) gift as well as the two more lethal ones. Still, he knows that Hei isn't handing him these things out of the goodness of his heart or because, hey, he was talking along and thought gee, Pavel could use these when he saw the explosives. Therefore, he forgoes the customary thank you.]
These are impressive. [And he will keep the red keys on him. The City's a dangerous place.] What have I done to warrant them?
[ No gushing displays of gratitude. No empty words. Good. Pavel is learning. He may be as potent a bratwurst of Russian joy juice as nature ever cooked up. But he has a remarkable aptitude in spheres Contractors value -- perception, cataloguing, a discerning mind disguised by good-natured interest. In field, he'd make a good asset. Unfortunately, Hei's from a different world. He works with practically a different species. Pavel would survive in the underworld, no doubt. But not before it chewed him up between its jagged teeth, sucked the tenderness out of him, and spat him back out -- scarred and irreparably damaged. ]
[ It'd be a shame, if that happened. ]
You like playing hero. Especially in a crisis. It's not my prerogative to lecture you about the futility of that. So I'm offering you transport instead. [ His expression is hard to read, though his answer, in substance, isn't too far off the mark. It isn't exactly a lie. Just incomplete. (This is as close as Hei gets to saying You've been useful to me in the past. And you'll always be more useful to me alive and unhurt.) ]
[Being a genius who has been shuttled from one location to another, each different in atmosphere and expectation, has its advantages. Growing up in a world where peace is the norm and treated kindly (and, let's face it, Pavel was outright spoiled at times) has even greater benefits outside of the dystopia that Hei comes from. Not struggling to survive leaves ample time for study, even if it doesn't hone the skills necessary to make it in a crueler universe.
Yes, Pavel is intelligent enough to survive in a cruel world, but he would be a very different person.
He does not deny Hei's statement--he does like being the hero or (and this is less flattering) the martyr--or ask Hei for his opinion on the topic. Heroics aren't sensible, of course. But there's something hidden under the worlds and behind Hei's characteristically blank features; Pavel's instinct is to call it concern or protectiveness and, even though he's sure that's an unrealistically optimistic interpretation, he finds himself appreciating it.
And, maybe, suspecting that he's more important than an asset that can be replaced if destroyed.]
Thank you. [Hei won't appreciate the words, but they're not empty. Pavel has no means of conveying sincere gratitude outside of speech.] The next time I'm playing hero, I will be more prepared than I was this time.
[ Being what he has for so long, it's impossible for Hei not to have regrets. Blood-stained fingers; apocalypse-black dreams. But he isn't one to dwell on past transgressions. What he can fix, he does. What he can change, he will. The rest is commentary. This is no different. He can see the little shades of expression flicker at the corners of Pavel's face, in his eyes. His wishful optimism is so palpable it's practically a thought balloon floating over his head. How different, how open, compared to the blank-eyed secrecy of Hei's own world, the self-serving ambiguity of his every decision. At that moment, innocence practically defines the young man. ]
[ It's true. Pavel is an invaluable asset. But nothing, in Hei's profession, is irreplaceable. Ascribing emotional value to anyone -- anything -- is dangerous. It suggests a loss of control. A misstep flung into the void, whose repercussions are impossible to predict before they boomerang to wreak havoc on your life. (It's one of the reasons he tries -- tries -- not to grow too attached to Yin, even as he senses it's too late.) ]
[ He doesn't mention any of this. Or respond to the Thank You. Instead, there's a tip of his head, and a shift of weight, before he turns to go. ] Meanwhile, you should take Lucy for a joy ride. I hear it's a real mood booster. [ Maybe that's his way of saying Sorry for attacking her. Maybe You're welcome. It's deliberate, dry only in the way Hei is very rarely humorous, but it's still true. ]
[Maybe Hei lives a logical life with his minimization--denial--of worldly attachments, but it would be a lonely one that Pavel has no interest in. He might be too quick to become emotionally invested in someone or something; he hasn't, however, regretted it, not yet.
No response is expected, so Pavel isn't disappointed. Lucy will like the motorcycle and, in spite of the fact that he's holding explosives in his hand and accepting gifts from an assassin, he's excited to take it out for a spin.] I will, as soon as October is over.
[ Isolation, in Hei's life, is inevitable. The things he's done, and continues to do, have marked him, and even if the mark is invisible to most of the wider world, he's always aware of its presence. Intimacy -- on the level of both absolute or marginal closeness -- is no longer familiar to him. In most ways, it's impossible. He could spin a line in his head about how Isolation maintains the integrity of the human spirit blah blah. But the truth is, it's a casualty of living in the shadows. Not a cross to bear, but a logical sequence of flouting all the rules of society. In the end, you're only designed to exist on the fringes. ]
[ Maybe there are moments when he can indulge in the fantasy of changing. Maybe there'll be a time when he'll be more similar to Korra and Pavel -- instead of surreally, ruthlessly alien. But realistically, it's doubtful. ]
I shouldn't have to warn you to wear a helmet.
[ His cadence is idle; a joke, for what it's worth. But as he walks away, he can't help but envy the grace with which someone like Pavel takes storms; the violence seems to pass over and leave no lasting mark. Hei can't be that way anymore, not when his storms are more like tsunamis, utterly altering his psychological landscape. ]
[ But what he wouldn't give for a split-second of that blissful naivety again. ]
Please. I am a genius. [And his brains are very important to him.
But not as important as attachments. People, situations, crises, joys--although everything comes and goes, there's no harm in enjoying what one has while one has it. That's the secret to being content and bouncing back from the disasters that life regularly produces: loving what is present but not so much that it's impossible to move on, letting go of pain when that pain is no longer necessary.
(Admittedly, Pavel has yet to master the art of letting go of pain. He'll get there.)
He waves at Hei's departing back as if unpleasant feelings have never existed between them and never will.]
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Pavel scrutinizes Hei's face, looking for a loophole or a flicker of indecision that he already knows he won't find. He wants to stubbornly insist that he isn't going to agree to such a thing, but Hei's request seems sincere. Denying him would be a small cruelty.] Okay. I will try.
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[ It's no different here. ]
[ He's glad Pavel's smart enough not to argue. Has no doubt that the young man will try -- though success is a different story -- because in extremis, ideals and attachments don't matter. Your survival does. Safeguarding it is an imperative, as natural as breathing. Hei would know. He's committed so many atrocities, in the name of self-defense. The trick is living with the memories, afterward. But he has plenty of practice there too. ]
Good, [ he says, and the word is quiet and flat as a full-stop. End of discussion. Fishing in his coat pocket, he withdraws a clinking set of keys -- one black, two red. These are tossed Pavel's way. ] In the meantime, here's something to make your future escapes easier.
no subject
Pavel catches the keys. While he can certainly make guesses as to what they're for--Hei seems most comfortable apologizing with gifts, and there aren't that many gifts that require keys--he feels it polite to ask.] What do these go to?
no subject
[ But that day isn't today. ]
The first key is to a bike. You'll find it in the parking lot. [ Easy to spot. It's the only bike there. And the design is rather distinctive. ] The two reds aren't keys. They're RDX-based explosives. Detonated by the keyblade. Twist and pull, then toss at the target. [ Pound for pound, aluminized RDX is about six times more powerful than C-4. It blows big and blows wide. ] You can replace them with substances of your choice. Or not use them at all. Your call.
no subject
Pavel is suitably impressed by the expensive (or stolen, or traded) gift as well as the two more lethal ones. Still, he knows that Hei isn't handing him these things out of the goodness of his heart or because, hey, he was talking along and thought gee, Pavel could use these when he saw the explosives. Therefore, he forgoes the customary thank you.]
These are impressive. [And he will keep the red keys on him. The City's a dangerous place.] What have I done to warrant them?
no subject
[ It'd be a shame, if that happened. ]
You like playing hero. Especially in a crisis. It's not my prerogative to lecture you about the futility of that. So I'm offering you transport instead. [ His expression is hard to read, though his answer, in substance, isn't too far off the mark. It isn't exactly a lie. Just incomplete. (This is as close as Hei gets to saying You've been useful to me in the past. And you'll always be more useful to me alive and unhurt.) ]
no subject
Yes, Pavel is intelligent enough to survive in a cruel world, but he would be a very different person.
He does not deny Hei's statement--he does like being the hero or (and this is less flattering) the martyr--or ask Hei for his opinion on the topic. Heroics aren't sensible, of course. But there's something hidden under the worlds and behind Hei's characteristically blank features; Pavel's instinct is to call it concern or protectiveness and, even though he's sure that's an unrealistically optimistic interpretation, he finds himself appreciating it.
And, maybe, suspecting that he's more important than an asset that can be replaced if destroyed.]
Thank you. [Hei won't appreciate the words, but they're not empty. Pavel has no means of conveying sincere gratitude outside of speech.] The next time I'm playing hero, I will be more prepared than I was this time.
no subject
[ It's true. Pavel is an invaluable asset. But nothing, in Hei's profession, is irreplaceable. Ascribing emotional value to anyone -- anything -- is dangerous. It suggests a loss of control. A misstep flung into the void, whose repercussions are impossible to predict before they boomerang to wreak havoc on your life. (It's one of the reasons he tries -- tries -- not to grow too attached to Yin, even as he senses it's too late.) ]
[ He doesn't mention any of this. Or respond to the Thank You. Instead, there's a tip of his head, and a shift of weight, before he turns to go. ] Meanwhile, you should take Lucy for a joy ride. I hear it's a real mood booster. [ Maybe that's his way of saying Sorry for attacking her. Maybe You're welcome. It's deliberate, dry only in the way Hei is very rarely humorous, but it's still true. ]
no subject
No response is expected, so Pavel isn't disappointed. Lucy will like the motorcycle and, in spite of the fact that he's holding explosives in his hand and accepting gifts from an assassin, he's excited to take it out for a spin.] I will, as soon as October is over.
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[ Maybe there are moments when he can indulge in the fantasy of changing. Maybe there'll be a time when he'll be more similar to Korra and Pavel -- instead of surreally, ruthlessly alien. But realistically, it's doubtful. ]
I shouldn't have to warn you to wear a helmet.
[ His cadence is idle; a joke, for what it's worth. But as he walks away, he can't help but envy the grace with which someone like Pavel takes storms; the violence seems to pass over and leave no lasting mark. Hei can't be that way anymore, not when his storms are more like tsunamis, utterly altering his psychological landscape. ]
[ But what he wouldn't give for a split-second of that blissful naivety again. ]
no subject
But not as important as attachments. People, situations, crises, joys--although everything comes and goes, there's no harm in enjoying what one has while one has it. That's the secret to being content and bouncing back from the disasters that life regularly produces: loving what is present but not so much that it's impossible to move on, letting go of pain when that pain is no longer necessary.
(Admittedly, Pavel has yet to master the art of letting go of pain. He'll get there.)
He waves at Hei's departing back as if unpleasant feelings have never existed between them and never will.]