His expression darkens to a glare, and he studies the ring readout irritably, flicking through the screen. Her blood-alcohol level was through the roof, and he entertains a brief thought of hanging Korra over the side of the building, or maybe fifty feet up.

(He lets it, and feels no guilt. He's had enough of beating the anger down.)

'Let's get you home,' he says, forcing himself into a kind of manic calm, springs coiled under his skin, ready to snap at the right trigger. She wasn't going to hear anything he said right now, and he needed some time to cool off in case he went ballistic.