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"First," Asami says, and her golden earrings glint beneath the starlight, her eyes sparkling as the fireworks dance across her face, her fingers lacing through Korra's. "Let's dance first."
"First," Asami says, and the smile that graces her face is so light and elegant that for a moment Korra forgets the weight of their conversation, forgets their burden. "Let's talk to the adoption agency first."
"First," Asami says, and her eyebrows quirk in that classic bemused way at her girls caught in the middle of some kind of food fight, her eyes dizzy when she interrupts Korra's rambling apologies. "Let's get you two cleaned up first."
"First," Asami says, and their little girl, their little woman, rolls her eyes as Korra insists on straightening her graduation cap and Asami sneaks a camera out of her purse. "Let's take a picture first."
"First," Asami says, her voice soft and tired; she holds Korra's hand in hers, brushes her trembling fingers through Korra's silver hair one last time, and she smiles, charming and beautiful even in the face of death. "Let me go first."