( he's ready to do a thousand things. arrest dick on the spot. yell at him for the foolish recklessness that reminded him altogether too much of korra. tell him that if it's between him and a criminal, he should pick himself every time.
it's what mako would do. it's what he has done. he's a survivor, at the core of him. it supersedes being a good man, sometimes. and there is absolutely no contest, ever, if it comes down to someone else and bolin. if shutting down kuvira's machine had been something only bo could do, with a high risk of dying? mako would have said, fuck the city, let it burn.
instead, he just finds dick sitting quietly. looking about a hundred years old, some trauma written in the faint wrinkle of his brow, cast all in the rich pale amber of his skin. mako opens his mouth, to lecture, to... something, and then he just holds out a hand. no smile, just. an offer of support. )
Come on. We should get out of here before the PD arrives.
( an airbender. it explains a few things. more than a few. the lightness on his feet, the surety of his acrobatics, the way he twists in the air, the absolute elegance of everything he does, as if motion is his default state, and anything else that isn't that is. unnatural. heavy. wrong. it's wrong now, seeing him sitting, unmoving, barely breathing, something mako recognizes as grief racked up in every line.
he can't let him get arrested now. they just need to get out of here, and he'll. sort the rest out later. mako, rather like lin, plays by the rules when they suit him, and his own rules when the other ones seem unsuitable. he trusts his own judgment above the law, these days. )
no subject
it's what mako would do. it's what he has done. he's a survivor, at the core of him. it supersedes being a good man, sometimes. and there is absolutely no contest, ever, if it comes down to someone else and bolin. if shutting down kuvira's machine had been something only bo could do, with a high risk of dying? mako would have said, fuck the city, let it burn.
instead, he just finds dick sitting quietly. looking about a hundred years old, some trauma written in the faint wrinkle of his brow, cast all in the rich pale amber of his skin. mako opens his mouth, to lecture, to... something, and then he just holds out a hand. no smile, just. an offer of support. )
Come on. We should get out of here before the PD arrives.
( an airbender. it explains a few things. more than a few. the lightness on his feet, the surety of his acrobatics, the way he twists in the air, the absolute elegance of everything he does, as if motion is his default state, and anything else that isn't that is. unnatural. heavy. wrong. it's wrong now, seeing him sitting, unmoving, barely breathing, something mako recognizes as grief racked up in every line.
he can't let him get arrested now. they just need to get out of here, and he'll. sort the rest out later. mako, rather like lin, plays by the rules when they suit him, and his own rules when the other ones seem unsuitable. he trusts his own judgment above the law, these days. )