Uncle was wrong. He was better than everyone else here. He was prince. A son of the Fire Nation. Having to hide away and pretend to be a dirty little server in a dirty little tea shop didn’t change that. He wasn’t going to be stuck here forever. He wear the earth clothes and the silly apron, clear the dishes and pour the tea, but he was not going to forget all that he was.
“What? Music?!” Zuko jolted and shook his head in denial. Why was there a horn under the counter? He peeked under, afraid there might be more instruments hidden away under there. He supposed he should be thankful the horn was passed off on one of the customers instead of him – though why the man agreed to play, he had no idea.
He watched his uncle offer the touchy-feely girl a dance, and felt his pale face go red with mortification. Worse, she accepted, and soon the whole room was swept up in the merriment. With a groan, he slapped a hand over his face. When he heard his alias he peeked out with his good eye and grumbled, “I don’t dance.”