A/N: It's been a long time since I wrote fiction (aka fanfic) so please excuse the uhh indeterminate badness.
An Old Mistress
An old mistress is like a wounded shoe…a shattered bowl or shabby coat. No one wants it anymore. But still, it can't be tossed out. It refuses. It's pathetic.
She never was one for the taste of bitters. The papery, vermicular flavoring of aged wine—it disgusts her. She hates it. She especially hates pretending to like it.
She remembers her father trying to teach her the fine art (ol' posh and bosh) of wine distinction. Asami, he would say, pay attention now. Notice the flavors. Each one is subtle, to be cherished.
Shrugging, Asami would turn away and lick the liquid beading on the rim of her glass, trailing a scorched path of volcanic cat-tongue.
Weary and impatient, Asami crashes on the bench. She uncorks a bottle and braves herself for a long swig. Courage, her father also believed, is for the damned. She lights a cigar and studies the way the flame travels. Slow and steady but assured. Fire is always confident. Bright and brutal, the cigar flickers to life—burns out cold, it is snuffed. Asami reignites one end and sucks the other dry.
She doesn't know what to think.
(She isn't the jealous type.)
He is, well yeah, a nice guy. And Korra is, after all, his friend. Best.
(He doesn't seem like the type with many of those.)
Still, Asami doesn't quite trust him. Not completely, not anymore (never really).
"Hey there, doll-face."
"Hey," she replied. "What're you doing here, Bolin?"
Bolin sits and takes the bottle. Smiling, he easily downs a good quarter. Asami is impressed. He is the first guy who could outdrink her.
"Nothing. Just wanted some fresh air and quiet. It's getting loud in there. How 'bout you?"
"Yeah. Same. Quiet."
"Hey, uhh, you know that whole thing with Korra and my brother earlier. Yeah, you know it's nothing right? They're just friends just friends just—"
"Yeah, I know."
"So you…all right? You're not sad, are you? Mako's pretty stupid. He doesn't know what he's doing. And Korra. Well, not to brag, but she's totally into me. She'd never go for a scrawny guy like Mako."
"Bolin?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
Asami gives him a small smile. He returns with a weighty grin. He understands. He knows her well, reads her thoughts and heart magnified. Bolin nods and takes another drink before passing the bottle back.
She is grateful. Bolin is a good friend (maybe her best).