[She knows what you're talking about. But dude, even she would give it a little more lead in. She doesn't even know how to respond to such a blunt declaration.]
[Now he's feeling somewhat defensive. That's probably not wise.]
Because I only regret talking to Hei because it made you mad, maybe. Perhaps I should not have meddled, but I did what I thought to be right. I was trying to help you.
You were upset, Korra! I thought that I could make you less upset! Is that so difficult to understand?
[Even if he didn't have righteous indignation on his side, Chekov wouldn't be afraid of Korra. She has proven that she's hot-headed enough to strike, but she wouldn't do more than that.]
[This is going exactly the way he had hoped it would not. He tries to calm down. One of them should try to be rational.] Korra, put me down. You can't hurt people when you are angry just because you're strong enough to.
[This is too much. He's too much. Everything is too much. This is no longer just about what Chekov did. This is about all the crap that she's had to deal with in the past seven months. That awful comic. The gangsters her child self pissed off. Dying the way she did. Being brought back to life the way she was. The friends she's lost. Being taunted with her powers. Being forced to kill the people she loves.
All it will take is another grain of sand to break her.]
[He has no idea what's going through Korra's head. She always acts like she's fine, never asks for help, never seems like she's going to snap. That's part of the reason Chekov intervened with Hei; he suspected that Korra wouldn't ask for help, even if she needed it.
And there's no way he can end a conversation like this.]
Not until you talk to me. You cannot intimidate me into leaving.
[For a brief moment, Chekov does consider leaving. That's what he did last time, though, and that didn't do any good. Korra has been his best friend in the City. Threats won't scare him away.]
[He turns in an indecisive circle then stoops to pick up the book for Jinora. Yes, he can leave the book and go, but he hasn't had it out with Korra yet. Chekov addresses the beach house's door.]
I'm not leaving until we talk.
[And with that, he sits on the sand a few feet from the house, back to the door. He has no intention of going anywhere.]
[Korra's prepared to wait him and his pushy annoying insensitive stubbornness out.
Except.
There's a dagger she picked up from one of her training lessons with Arthur, and it gives Korra an idea. She can't explain where it comes from, or why it seems like the only possible solution.
But.
She picks it up, testing its weight and balance in her hand. Adjusts her grip. Walks silently outside to where he sits.
[Chekov isn't paying much attention. Korra's not typically a quiet person; when she's ready to talk, he'll know. Until then, he's content to watch the ebb and flow of the ocean's waves.
The pain is sudden and unexpected, almost too sharp to register as an injury.
Pavel's vision darkens for a moment. He blinks it away and turns (it's hard to breathe) to see Korra.
(There's a lot of blood. He doesn't know what happened, but there's blood staining his shirt and seeping into the sand.)
That doesn't make sense. His brain refuses to accept this as reality.]
Korra?
[Blood comes up with his words and Chekov wishes he knew more about medicine.]
[The first sensation is a queasy mixture of guilt and vicious satisfaction. Mission accomplished.
That feeling quickly fades, leaving her suddenly cold and trembling. She stares at Chekov, at the blood in the sand and the knife in his back, uncomprehendingly.
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Excuse me?
[She knows what you're talking about. But dude, even she would give it a little more lead in. She doesn't even know how to respond to such a blunt declaration.]
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I am apologizing and asking you to be less... ah, physically demonstrative the next time you are angry.
[But Chekov is pretty sure that she wasn't asking for a repeat.]
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You suck at apologies.
[You don't sound like someone who's sorry. You sound like someone going through the motions, and she's in no mood for that.]
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Because I only regret talking to Hei because it made you mad, maybe. Perhaps I should not have meddled, but I did what I thought to be right. I was trying to help you.
[And defensive is moving up to indignant.]
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I never asked for your help.
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You didn't need to! Do friends require invitations to help?
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[She's advancing on him, unaware how threatening she seems]
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[Even if he didn't have righteous indignation on his side, Chekov wouldn't be afraid of Korra. She has proven that she's hot-headed enough to strike, but she wouldn't do more than that.]
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That is what you need to not do. [Chekov plants his feet firmly, fully expecting another shove.]
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It involved me because it involved you!
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Stop trying to justify it!
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[This is going exactly the way he had hoped it would not. He tries to calm down. One of them should try to be rational.] Korra, put me down. You can't hurt people when you are angry just because you're strong enough to.
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[She lets him go so she can shove him away.]
Don't. You. Dare.
[This is your cue to leave, Chekov.]
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Please, calm down. I want to talk, not fight.
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[This is too much. He's too much. Everything is too much. This is no longer just about what Chekov did. This is about all the crap that she's had to deal with in the past seven months. That awful comic. The gangsters her child self pissed off. Dying the way she did. Being brought back to life the way she was. The friends she's lost. Being taunted with her powers. Being forced to kill the people she loves.
All it will take is another grain of sand to break her.]
Go away.
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And there's no way he can end a conversation like this.]
Not until you talk to me. You cannot intimidate me into leaving.
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Korra, please.
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[He turns in an indecisive circle then stoops to pick up the book for Jinora. Yes, he can leave the book and go, but he hasn't had it out with Korra yet. Chekov addresses the beach house's door.]
I'm not leaving until we talk.
[And with that, he sits on the sand a few feet from the house, back to the door. He has no intention of going anywhere.]
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Except.
There's a dagger she picked up from one of her training lessons with Arthur, and it gives Korra an idea. She can't explain where it comes from, or why it seems like the only possible solution.
But.
She picks it up, testing its weight and balance in her hand. Adjusts her grip. Walks silently outside to where he sits.
And plunges the knife into his back.]
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The pain is sudden and unexpected, almost too sharp to register as an injury.
Pavel's vision darkens for a moment. He blinks it away and turns (it's hard to breathe) to see Korra.
(There's a lot of blood. He doesn't know what happened, but there's blood staining his shirt and seeping into the sand.)
That doesn't make sense. His brain refuses to accept this as reality.]
Korra?
[Blood comes up with his words and Chekov wishes he knew more about medicine.]
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That feeling quickly fades, leaving her suddenly cold and trembling. She stares at Chekov, at the blood in the sand and the knife in his back, uncomprehendingly.
What did she just do?!]
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