Zuko sighed, his posture practically radiating boredom as he watched his uncle go through the process of preparing the tea. There had to be a faster way of doing that. In fact, he knew it could be done faster, because it only took him half as long to strain the leaves. Of course, Uncle’s tea always turned out far better, for some reason. Zuko’s was often too weak, or too bitter.
“It’s just tea, Uncle.” He rolled his eyes, pushing up from the counter and pointedly ignoring the chuckling couple. Guess who was getting slow refills from now on. “What’s done is done,” he conceded, which was as close to saying “I forgive you” as he was going to get.
He turned toward Iroh, but fixed his gaze on the designs painted on one of the teapots. “Jet wasn’t offended. He was obsessed,” he muttered. And he was right. He had been arrested because he was right, but no one believed him. While that worked to their favor, it was a bitter kind of victory.
Zuko took the tray from Iroh, feeling heavily suspicious as he followed his uncle’s gaze to the indicated table. He shot the old man a glare and, with an annoyed grunt, stomped over to the table to serve the girls their tea.