[ Zuko's fixed his gaze to the screen, but after a while, he feels her eyes on him, and it catches his breath noticing it — what's so interesting about him, more than the movie? But when she repositions herself in the couch, Zuko's own eyes drift to the right at her in turn, checking if she's looking, rather than checking if she's watching... But he doesn't let his gaze linger too long, and it follows back to the screen as the interview with the cannibal psychiatrist grows ever-more eerie. This was a very different style than the two heavily aesthetic, colorful action movies he'd seen. Already he's not quite on edge, but comparatively to any other piece of theatre or cinema he'd seen, he's sucked in with sick fascination. All the sicker as the film unfolds, too — and this scene sick enough to call up question aloud, when an especially insane inmate harasses the pretty young detective lady by throwing both sexist insults and his own fresh ejaculate at her at once as she rushes by his cell and out of the prison-like hospital. The filmmakers had certainly built up a mood. ]
...What was that he threw at her face? Was that his, uh—?
[ His eyes turn again from the screen to Azula, his idle stroking of her leg stopping suddenly when he does. Hopefully he's saying enough by not saying the word he thinks he means to say, if he read that scene right. It's not his comfort zone, it's uncouth, and he's asking his sister. He'd probably be more comfortable asking about how the guy ate someone's liver. ]
no subject
...What was that he threw at her face? Was that his, uh—?
[ His eyes turn again from the screen to Azula, his idle stroking of her leg stopping suddenly when he does. Hopefully he's saying enough by not saying the word he thinks he means to say, if he read that scene right. It's not his comfort zone, it's uncouth, and he's asking his sister. He'd probably be more comfortable asking about how the guy ate someone's liver. ]