"You're thinking about this too hard. Just get her some flowers, man."

Said man wrinkles his brow. "Flowers?"

His fellow guard refrains from rolling her eyes. "You've been with this girl for what, two months?"

"One. We met a month ago tomorrow," the man tells her as they come to a stop. "I want to celebrate, make it special, you know?"

"Flowers are special," the uniformed woman replies dryly, folding her large arms as she leans against the wall.

The man shakes his head. "You don't understand. She's the one."

"Of course."

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing. Just reminding myself how dumb young love is."

It takes the man a moment to be properly offended. "Hey!"

"Listen to the lady, kid," a gruff voice interrupts him. "Flowers don't reek of desperate."

"You shut up," the female guard asserts sharply, rattling the bars of the prisoner's cell with her baton.

The younger man with whom she is making the rounds this morning opens his mouth to speak -

"ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL REPORT TO THE MAXIMUM SECURITY WING IMMEDIATELY. LEVEL THREE LOCKDOWN IS IN EFFECT. REPEAT, ALL AVAILABLE PERSONNEL..."

The two guards turn to one another as the echoing voice fills the corridor, blasting out of the PA system. The man's face is a collection of small circles, eyes wide and mouth open in shock. He has barely been on the job for a month. Level Three lockdown? He's just about got to grips with the prison's rudimentary security measures. Meanwhile, the woman's perpetual expression of boredom shifts, for the first time in his experience, towards something else. She lifts her head like a gossip in a coffee shop, nostrils flared. The job isn't the most exciting thing in the world, but looking for action in a prison of all places? The young man hopes he's reading the piqued curve of her thin lips the wrong way.

Especially when everyone knows who lives down in the Maximum Security Wing.

Korra flops down onto the plush leather sofa with a big, appreciative sigh. "I love the weekends."

"I know, you're always reminding me," replies a familiar, richly smooth voice. "I'm convinced that with you around, I should hardly ever have need of a calendar."

Lying on her back, Korra turns her head to watch Asami walk into the study. Even on a casual morning, her dress sense is as sharp as her mind.

"Bet you're happy Yin and her brood have finally moved out."

"Korra," Asami admonishes, carrying a pile of documents in her arms. She sets them down onto her mahogany desk, which sits in front of a tall bookcase.

She shrugs, the back of her head resting on her palms. "I'm just saying what we both know you're thinking."

"Well, you're wrong."

"Sure I am."

Asami takes a moment to align the edges of her papers. "Truth be told, I'm ecstatic."

Korra grins. "I'm surprised you managed to be so patient with them."

"I was not going to kick Mako and Bolin's grandmother out onto the street, now, was I?"

"It occurred to you," Korra jests, "didn't it?"

"Don't be silly. Yin is a lovely woman, really," Asami says, "and her family could be charming at times."

Korra gestures without even looking back at her. "But?"

Asami relents with a sigh. "I like my things to stay where I put them. This place is a mess."

"Well, at least you're back in charge of your own cleaning services now."

"Indeed," Asami replies, walking away from the desk, "and while we're on the subject, please get your boots off my furniture."

Korra groans petulantly, peeling her boots off with her feet. They fall to the floor with a dull thump after she pokes them over the edge of the sofa.

"You're terrible," Asami says tonelessly, "scooch."

She sinks into the sofa when Korra wriggles down a bit, letting her legs dangle over its arm. Pulling her own up onto the seat, Asami reaches down afterwards and threads her fingers into Korra's hair.

"It's getting longer," she observes.

Korra slides a hand out from underneath her head and tugs a dark lock into view. "Hmm. I'll have to book a date with a pair of scissors."

"So you can mangle your hair, again?"

Korra's chuckle is pained with embarrassment. "Alright, alright. Quit reminding me."

The almost unmitigated disaster that was an attempt to trim her own locks is still a fresh, cheek-warming memory.

Asami sighs quietly. "Petty grievances aside, I do hope Yin and her family manage to settle in Zaofu."

"I'm sure they will," Korra replies, merging with Asami's diverted train of thought. "Suyin will be good to them. Besides, Republic City wasn't really their kind of town."

"It won't be anyone's at this rate. The Restoration Initiative is little more than a farce."

Four months have passed since the Colossus levelled half of the city; however, almost five have passed since Korra and Asami took a spontaneous trip away from home. Time follows a different course in the Spirit World, something which the girls discover at the chagrin of the many folk they left without personally informing. What to them seems only four days is in reality close to three weeks when they emerge from the golden portal. And Asami is abuzz with ideas.

To Korra's amusement, it's not long into their vacation before the woman starts talking about work. Asami quickly becomes obsessed with spirit vines, largely because upon seeing them she remembers that her most prominent business rival is already several steps ahead of her in the race to harness spirit energy.

"Race?" Korra says. "I, uh, think Varrick already won it."

"To make a weapon," Asami counters with a flourish of her unfailingly luxurious hair. "I'm going to create an industry."

Upon their return, however, Tenzin and Korra's father make them both quite apologetic with a lecture neither young woman can say a word against in rebuttal. Eager to leave, the pair, upon agreeing to tell the first person whose path they crossed of their plans, came across a child, one with an infamous reputation for tall tales. Ikki is nowhere to be found when Korra later seeks her out with the intention of giving the girl a good grilling.

"We're talking about returning Republic City to its former glory. It'll take time."

"Time, sure," Asami replies as Korra sits up, "but with most of the population's competent builders having been turned into refugees, we barely have the manpower. Even with the President's supposed commitments, the roads and train lines are still a disaster. Satomobile sales are plummeting and my renovation of the public transport system has been rubbished!"

Korra awkwardly rubs the back of her neck. "At...least you still have the mansion?"

Asami's smile is bitter. "At what point do you think it'll be taken from me, when someone realises I haven't paid the bills or when they catch on to the fact I'm funding the Restoration Initiative with nothing but promises?"

"That isn't fair," Korra says as the telephone on the desk begins to shrilly ring. "Raiko didn't you give a choice, you or any of the other big industrialists."

"Yes, well," Asami replies, rising up off the sofa with reluctance and setting a hand to the glossy black receiver, "the definition of 'fair' is one of life's many mysteries."

Korra listens as she inquires after the caller's identity. Moments later, Asami is gesturing towards her.

Arching a curious brow, Korra stands to her feet. "Who is it?" she whispers.

Asami holds out the telephone. "The devil himself."

"President Raiko?"

"Good morning, Avatar Korra," the man's voice filters through into her ear, "I'm afraid I must skip conventional pleasantries. We have an urgent situation on our hands."

Her mouth tightens. "I'm listening."

Less than a minute later, Korra has thrown down the receiver onto its cradle.

"What's wrong?" Asami asks, frowning anxiously.

"I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"I'll tell you later," Korra calls over her shoulder, already halfway out the room. And then she's gone.

Two guards escort Korra through the prison. The bulky, intimidating presence of the woman is in stark contrast to the leanly built and somewhat awkward young man partnered up with her. Predictably, he does much less of the talking.

"You're not going to believe it, ma'am, absolutely not going to believe it."

Korra is about to remind the female guard again that she doesn't need to refer to her as "ma'am", but then doing so would garner as much success as asking what in the world she's talking about. In fact, that is something Korra has been asking everyone she comes into contact with since her cryptic telephone conversation with President Raiko. Everyone seems to be in on the big secret and no one is willing to tell her just what that is.

"...not going to believe it, ma'am. Hardly could myself."

Korra rolls her eyes. The other guard suddenly speaks up and she gladly turns to hear him out.

"Hey, Avatar Korra, you're a woman," the man says.

She blinks. "I...am?"

Not that Korra doubts the fact, she thinks, though the tone of the man's statement, like a great revelation, almost makes her question herself. Missing the look on her face, he presses on.

"I have a girlfriend. It's our one month anniversary tomorrow and everyone keeps telling me to just buy her flowers. What do you think, as a woman?"

Nonplussed, Korra is surprised by just how grateful she is for the female guard's interruption.

"For crying out loud, man, don't waste her time with that nonsense! Look, we're almost there now," the woman says as they turn onto the corridor, occupied by a tall, windowed booth standing in front a solid metal gate. "You won't believe your eyes when you see it, ma'am. You just won't believe it."

"I'm sure I won't," Korra intones, signing and handing back the register to the officer staffing the booth. She is more than delighted to leave the pair of guards behind as the gate mechanically swings open and she steps into the Maximum Security Wing.

The door of the cell is open. A selection of armed guards are congregated in a loose semi-circle in front of it. Not a single one of them looks remotely comfortable, even at Korra's presence. Even Chief Beifong, who stands with arms folded staunchly across polished armour, wears an unsettled frown. Each and every one of them seems reluctant to cross the threshold and share the room beyond with its occupant. Korra's eyes pass over the men and women in turn, meeting Lin's last. She merely jerks her head at the cell.

Her insistent escort was, indeed, correct. Korra is barely aware of her feet carrying her forward. She takes in the thick pair of chains, bored into the ceiling, which would hold aloft their captive. She takes in the shackles, wrought menacingly thick and heavy, which bound together the ankles. And she takes in the simple block, raised up through a floor several inches thick, upon which sits a woman in dirty, ragged green overalls, her back rigid and cold jade eyes looking straight ahead.

Korra's gaze sweeps over the room. The walls, the restraints and solid manacles locked tightly over the woman's hands...everything, in this room - everything, is made of platinum. And all of it is an absolute waste.

Clenching her fists, Korra finds the woman's eyes. "Enough is enough," she says, and then her voice brooks no argument. "You're coming with me."

Kuvira slowly stands to her feet. The last of her chains clatters to the floor.

I promise, this won't be as miserable an affair as the last one. Probably.