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It was getting late, I thought, slurping the last of my noodles down. Soon time to call it a night, I figured. I was just about to get up when Bolin, my secretary, tapped on the door and opened.
“Dame to see you, Korra, and looks like she’s got plenty of dough.” That caught my ear. The private eye business was feast or famine, and dodging my landlord was getting old.
“Send her in, Bolin,” I told him and settled back in behind my desk. Some stuffy old dowager worried her husband was getting it on with his secretary was the perfect sort of case to milk for a few days to run up expenses.
Instead, a woman maybe a year or two older than me walked through the door, clothes as sharp as her jawline (nearly sharp enough to - how did the saying go - puncture the hull of an empire-class Fire Nation battleship, leaving thousands to die at sea?). Smitten, I locked eyes with her as she entered, looking at her the way I’d never looked at a woman before, fumbling for words, finally settling on the hackneyed “please, have a seat.” Smooth, Korra. Way to make a first impression on the woman to give you a lesbian awakening.
For the dame’s part, she peered back at me intently. “You’re the Avatar?” she asked at last.
“And a private detective,” I clarified. “Avatar’s not a paying gig.” I shrugged and turned it into resting my hands on the back of my head, flexing my arms in the process.
The dame had the decency to blush - at least in part at my triceps, unless I missed my guess. Well. “My apologies - I’ve been terribly rude. My name is Asami Sato, and I need your help.”
I blinked and leaned forward in my chair. “Future Industries CTO Asami Sato? I’m afraid I don’t usually do industrial espionage–”
The dame – Ms. Sato – snorted. “As if we need to steal technology from our competitors. No, my mother has been murdered by members of the Agni Kai Triad, and the police refuse to investigate. I need someone to bring them to justice.” Confidence and passion. A good combination.
“Police won’t get involved,” I muttered. That meant bribes, and going over the head of Lieutenant Beifong. Beifong’s ass was harder than her armor, but she’d die before she took money from a triad.
“I understand if you won’t do it,” Asami - Ms. Sato murmured. Her piercing green eyes - ugh, I’m getting as bad as Bolin - faltered.
“No, I’ll do it.” The triads were a menace and, well, Ms. Sato decidedly was not. “I’ll draw up a contract, call in some favors. And then maybe discuss the details over lunch tomorrow?” I added. Every rule in the book said don’t flirt with a client, but what was the point of being the Avatar if you couldn’t light the book on fire and then douse the flame before it became a threat?
To my immense gratification, Ms. Sato smiled, and named a restaurant. “11:30 sharp. My treat.”
“It’s a date,” I blurted out. Stupid, stupid Avatar–
“I suppose it is,” Asami replied with a forceful nod that sent her dark, wavy hair bobbing seductively (you really need to get laid, I told myself).
We bid each other good night, and as the door closed behind her, I moaned. I was doomed. We’d just met, and I was already doomed. Maybe the next incarnation of the Avatar would have some chill. Until then… “Doomed,” I repeated, and shook my head sadly.