A/N: This part is about the same length as the last. Still not entirely sure where I'm going with this yet, but I just can't NOT write i

A wonderful thanks to my friend alchemistextraordinaire for beta'ing this for me. Lord knows I need it.

The Element of Change / Part II

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Tarrlok stared at her hand for a moment, unsure how to react. He was definitely not expecting such a pretty girl on his lawn - especially not one who was clearly of Water Tribe decent - let alone a massage therapist.

"You are Councilman Tarrlok, right?" she laughed sheepishly, as if it were obvious. Of course his identity was obvious. His face had showered the papers for years as he made his climb up the political ladder.

Her words prodded him from his paralysis, and he held out his hand to shake hers. She shook it firmly, offering him a more playful smile.

"I know I'm quite early; my apologies for that. I just assumed you might already be home. I was told over the phone that your ailment was inhibiting you physically."

Tarrlok's lip curled, internally cursing his assistant. "You must have spoken to Ling, my assistant who enjoys exaggeration and embellishment." He forces a smile, though it is easy to fake. "I didn't know I was seeing a masseuse." He was sure that Ling would schedule him an appointment with some old healer who'd wave some water over him and make the pain go away. What had possessed his idiot of an assistant to think that a little lotion and rubbing would make his neck better?

She frowned at the way he enunciated her title. "It seems your assistant also enjoys keeping you ignorant. A dangerous quality in an assistant, if you ask me." She shrugged her shoulders.

"He's the only assistant I've ever had that can remember how I like my coffee," he chuckled.

Looking down at their hands at the same moment, they realized their fingers were still connected. She released Tarrlok's hand as if it had burned her.

"Where would you like your massage?" the woman - Korra, Tarrlok's mind amended - asked delicately, bending down to the ground to pick up what looked like a large metal briefcase. She noticed his inquiring expression and chuckled. "This is my table."

Tarrlok suppressed the need to inquire further, gesturing a hand toward his front door. "Follow me."

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Tarrlok wanted his house to say something about him. He desired that it conveyed elegance, class, and confidence. Image was, after all, an important part of his job. He had to have a certain edge to attract enough attention to be noticed, and then maintain that attention enough to have influence.

As soon as he had the funds, this home became his dream. His solace. His image.

Korra was utterly blown away by the interior. The lobby area, with marble floors and a spiral staircase weaving up the center, was intended to make the greatest first impression on anyone who entered. The whole first floor, where he would entertain guests and such, was designed for a similar purpose.

Emerging from her trance, Korra turned to Tarrlok. "Which room is most relaxing?"

Tarrlok gave her an easy smile, waving a hand toward the staircase. "Upstairs"

Tarrlok offered to carry her table up the stairs, but she declined as she playfully flexed her exposed tanned bicep. She was quite a young, frisky thing - as if someone poured some sort of stimulant in her morning tea. Then again, she seemed far too vivacious to indulge in things as sophisticated as tea. For some reason, Tarrlok found this quality oddly intriguing. Odd, because it was usually women of the sophisticated-sort that piqued his interest.

As she trudged her table up the stairs, Tarrlok innocently noted that Korra had a very athletic body underneath her smooth black uniform. Then, his mind ventured into not so innocent territory as his eyes locked on her backside.

Tarrlok nipped those thoughts in the bud. How young was the girl? Early twenties? She seemed quite mature, but her youthful spirit was clear from the bounce in her step... and the bouncing of other things...

They reached the top of the staircase and Korra suddenly turned to face him. "Lead the way, Mr. Councilman." Tarrlok quirked an eyebrow as he paced down the darkened hall of the second level, finding the door at the end of the hall and turning the knob.

He flicked on the switch next to the door, illuminating the room. Tarrlok stole a glance at the young lady as she followed behind him, her eyes widening as she absorbed her surroundings.

"Whoa," she breathed. "Is your interior designer bipolar or something?" she sputtered, the professional facade dissolving under her bemusement.

Tarrlok couldn't tell if that was supposed to be a compliment or not, but couldn't help but smirk as he watched her expressions change. He held his hands behind his back as he paced into the center of the room. Beneath his bare feet, he felt the tendrils of fur flowering between his toes. A Tiger-leopard rug sprawled beneath him, just in front of the stone fireplace that flickered with embers left over from the night before. On the other side of the room, was his large canopy bed with animal skins hanging down its sides.

This room was for him: Tarrlok of the Water Tribe.

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