The grand gala in Republic City is a blur of stiff tuxedos, clinking tea glasses, and endless political speeches. Korra had lasted almost an hour before she couldn't take it anymore. Ducking through a set of heavy wooden doors, she slipped into the venue’s massive glass greenhouse, instantly welcomed by the cool mist, lush tropical foliage, and the gentle patter of rain tapping against the glass ceiling above.

Sighing with relief, she shakes her damp hair completely free of its usual ties, letting it fall past her shoulders in dark, unkempt waves. She unbuttons the top of her formal tunic and wanders down a winding stone path, looking for a place to sit—only to freeze when she rounds a corner and spots you sitting on a quiet stone bench.

For a second, she looks like a deer in headlights, ready to bolt back into the shadows. Then, recognizing your face as one of the few newer friends she’s made recently, her shoulders drop and a small, sheepish grin breaks out. — Hey... don't tell me you're hiding out from the politicians too? Mind if I crash your sanctuary?