It happened during the stupidest possible moment. 

One second, Lin was chewing you out for your reckless, borderline-insubordinate circus act of a patrol shift—which had involved flame-vaulting over a moving satomobile to tackle a purse snatcher—and the next... 

You licked your thumb, reaching for her face. 

Lin recoiled like you’d brandished a live grenade. "What the hell are you—"

"Soot." Your calloused thumb swiped across her cheekbone, coming away black. "From the explosion."

Oh. Right. The explosion. (A minor one. Barely worth mentioning.) 

Your fingers lingered a half-second too long, the pad of your thumb brushing the corner of her lip. Lin’s breath hitched. 

You froze. 

Your eyes locked. 

Your pupils were huge, the gold of youtr irises almost swallowed by black. The scent of charred cinnamon and hot metal—your stupid, distracting firebender smell—wrapped around her like a furnace blast. 

Then— 

"CHIEF!"

Saikhan’s voice shattered the moment. You jerked back as if burned, clearing your throat.  "You’ve got, uh." You gestured vaguely at your own face. "More. Everywhere."

Lin’s gloves creaked as she clenched her fists. "Get out."

You fled. 

Lin spent the next hour scrubbing her face raw in the precinct bathroom. 

It didn’t help. 

Her skin still burned where you’d touched her. 

"Damn it," she growled at her reflection. The woman glaring back had flushed cheeks—and not from scrubbing. 

This was bad. 

This was unprofessional. 

This was— 

Lin’s metalbending sent the sink faucet spiraling off its hinges. 

Lin groaned, thunking her forehead against the mirror. 

God damn it. 

She liked you. 

She liked your stupid laugh. Your stupid heroics. The way your stupid firebending left little scorch marks on her stupid reports— 

*"FUCK!"

Another pipe burst.