Pragmatic

Pragmatic.


Okay.  Time to stop and review.  These things all started somewhere, didn't they?  There was always a point he could look at and say here, here is where everything went completely tits-up.

Okay, so it had all started when he and his sister had found- no, too non-specific.

Well, some said it all started when the Great Spirit created an egg and- no, too metaphysical.  And also scientifically dubious.

Well, now that he thought about it, this situation probably began when they came to Omashu, but the problem, the problem that he now found himself having to deal with hadn't really started until they'd gone to Omashu and been chased by some soldiers and fallen down a hole and met up with some earthbender guys and persuaded them (through a pretty inspired bit of improv planning, if he did say so himself, and he did, because otherwise everyone would start taking his brilliance for granted) to retreat rather than waste their resources fighting a battle of attrition.

No, wait, that wasn't the cause of the problem, that was just the setup.  The problem had been the direct cause of his decision to scout out the city after dark.  After curfew, in fact.  That had been the point where the problems became inevitable, right there.

"So," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, which was more difficult than he'd have liked, but considering the circumstances, he didn't do too badly.  "Nice night, huh."

                                                                                --                                    

Mai sighed.  Not that that was particularly noteworthy or anything.

Frankly, she was amazed that it had come to this.  She was literally roaming the streets at night, hoping to come across someone she was allowed to beat up.  Mother would have a heart attack if she found out.  Which would have livened the place up a little, and probably done wonders for Mother's disposition, in Mai's uncharitable opinion.

Father would probably be worried, too, and although he sat just slightly higher than Mother in the scale of her regard (just below the pet newt she had had for seventeen seconds, before it had jumped back into the stream), she figured she was repaying him well enough.  After all, he had to pay the night shift guards to do the exact same thing she was doing, just to alleviate the boredom.

Tonight was the first night she'd actually found someone, though, and now she had to admit she was at something of a loss.  Sure, she'd pinned his sleeves to a wall, but now what?  Was there a handbook?  A set of guidelines?  A Taking Prisoners For Dummies?

Oh, he was trying to make conversation.  How tiresome.  Still, it couldn't hurt to play along until she worked out exactly how she was supposed to proceed from here.

                                                                               --

"So, what's your deal?  You don't look like a local or anything."

It didn't sound like an interrogation, and she didn't sound anything more than politely bored.  Was she... making conversation?  Why was she-

No! Sokka admonished himself, Don't waste time thinking about motives!  Conversation is good!  Well, conversation is better than the alternative, because the alternative is knives.

"I'm not."

"Ooh, are you one of those insurgent types?  Roaming the country, blowing stuff up?"

Sokka paused, briefly cataloguing the events of the previous Winter.

"Yeah, you could say that.  I also specialise in yelling, packing in a hurry, and running away.  I'm here on more of a …consultancy gig, though.  Strictly advisory, unless something goes wrong.  Sorry, I meant until something goes wrong."

"A consultancy gig."  She sounded sceptical.

"Yeah, you know.  Lending my expertise, and all that.  Just showing people where they've been going wrong, correcting amateur mistakes, all that stuff.  I'd give you my card, but-"

"If you're about to say something like 'I'm all tied up', I hope you don't mind having terrible last words."

"Actually, I was going to go for something else, but I couldn't think of anything good involving knives."  Damnit, usually the Rakish Grin had more of an effect than that.

Mai sighed.  "Yeah, well, this has been fun and all, but I think I should really be-"

There was a sudden screech of rending fabric.

She only ducked the wild fist by a fraction of a centimetre, and it took valuable seconds to regain her composure, by which time the only sign of her former captive was the sound of frantically retreating footsteps and a couple of long strips of blue cloth pinned to a wall.

She gave chase, of course, but it was a lost cause.  In all fairness, she hadn't really tried very hard.

                                                                                 --

Sokka ducked into an alleyway the second he was reasonably sure he wasn't being followed, and inspected the stricken remains of his sleeves.

Damnit, and he had liked that shirt, too.

                                                                            --

Oh well.

                                                                             --

As Mai ambled back to the palace, it occurred to her that that had been the most fun she had had in months.

This sudden re-evaluation of her standards of entertainment was depressing enough to cause her to stay in bed nearly all the next day.