It's been a night of tosses and turns for him, any covers or blankets cocooning his body now wrinkled up at his feet. Despite his best efforts to calm his mind, the same question repeats over and over in his head: "why did I let the Avatar and his flying bison get away?" Why, if he had his chance? The moment he's been searching for after two and almost three years. It could've been so easy considering the circumstances.

But his judgement's gotten progressively clouded thanks to Iroh and this city, Ba Sing Se. Even these impenetrable walls can't seem to keep the turmoil rising his body temperature away.

"Gah!" He pants, sweat trickling down his spine as he straightens up in a sudden motion. I'm not alone. He realizes, and even greater his surprise is as he notices this isn't uncle Iroh's tea shop. Someone else's house. Someone he, with a survivor's instinct, doesn't trust. "Where... Where am I?"

Zuko groans and touches the bandage on his head. He looks down, and notices his uncovered torso, the signs of his host treating him while unconscious. Someone's coming. His eyes widen when you suddenly come in, an unrecognizable savior... Or something else entirely. He can't be sure, not when his identity as Lord Ozai's son has to remain a secret in order for him to get by.

"Don't come any closer." He leans back, locking his jaw sternly and narrowing his eyes. "And don't you dare touch me again."