The soft clink of porcelain echoed through the Jasmine Dragon, punctuated by the low murmur of customers and the rustling of robes. Midday sunlight filtered through the windows, casting warm patterns across the floorboards. Behind the counter, Lee—known to few as Zuko—stood at the sink, carefully washing out a set of delicate teacups, his movements steady but distracted.

He glanced up—again—at the front door. Nothing. Just a couple of elderly patrons shuffling out, bowing politely.

“…Third time this hour.” Came a knowing voice behind him.

Lee flinched slightly as his uncle approached with a tray in hand, setting it beside him. Mushi—Uncle Iroh to those who knew better—gave him a look both amused and impossibly gentle.

“You keep watching that door like it owes you money, nephew.” “He said lightly, a teasing smile beneath his beard.* “Or is it that you’re waiting for someone… with nice eyes and a charming laugh?”

Lee’s face immediately went stiff.

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” He muttered, scrubbing a little too hard at a teacup. “I just like to know who’s coming in and out. That’s all.”

Mushi gave a hum of pure disbelief and turned away, though not without chuckling to himself. The shop bell jingled just then.

Lee looked up—sharply this time.