He chooses the tea leaves, of course. She gathers the tea set and lets him hunt among her collection for the right blend, smiling as he flicks his thumb and lights the kettle. It's on its merry way to bubbling as they sit down together, and she cocks her head like a schoolgirl, eager to hear her fortune.

He pours graciously, and they drink together for good times and bad, the old days and the new ones at hand. She swirls the dregs and offers her cup, sleeve drawing back carelessly to show her pretty wrists.

Stroking his beard thoughtfully, the Dragon of the West looks into the shapes of soggy leaves and pronounces her greatly blessed, horribly doomed, and possibly the next Avatar if she can wing it. She laughs and tells him that he's looking at it upside down; he goes all indignant and asks who's telling this fortune, me or you?

She always did like to make him puff up with false pride- he always made it so entertaining when he deflated, and would teasingly beg for her hand, for he surely needed her guidance to give him good sense. And as always, she feigns to answer, for who would guide her village should she leave it? First he was Fire Nation, then he was married, and now, well- time marches on, and they must make the best of it while they can.