He knew Zuko didn't want to talk about it, and inside the tea shop was really not the idea place to have any sort of private conversation, but Iroh felt that if he didn't say something now, Zuko would find a way to avoid him again later. "Of course I do not want you to make a scene," he answered serenely, checking the heat of the water. "But you have a rae gift, and that gift is the ability to find ways of getting out of talking to me."
One of the pots of tea was ready. Iroh carefully strained the tea laves out, gentle as though he were handling thin glass. He liked to joke that his tea tasted so good because it was made with love, but it was not entirely a jest. Tea had always been a passion of his. He wanted to serve people something that they would remember, and possibly make them a kindred spirit. The very act of sitting down to a cup of tea was a temporary escape from the world and all its troubles. It was why he was constantly offering it to his nephew.
"What happened last night was, perhaps, partially my fault. Forgive me." There was sincerity in his tone, even if it was quiet. "But how can you expect me to drink cold tea?" This question was a bit louder, causing a couple at the closest table to chuckle quietly.
"He who strikes the first blow is not willing to admit he lost the argument. That young man was probably offended when you decided not to join him, and he was looking for a way to return some of the pride he lost at your rejection."
As though that explained it all away, Iroh turned away from Zuko to ready a tray with fresh tea, cups and saucers. When he handed the tray to his nephew, he looked suggestively at a table by the door. "Here. This is a special blend." At the table were three young girls, all stealing glances at Zuko and giggling in between. "I think they will enjoy this tea very much."