[ All the talking he does makes the desire to drink escalate, vaguely wondering if she truly deserved this level of hell that was being forced upon her. This was not a fair trade of services, he could butler about without trying to give her... advice? Whatever this was? When the glass is finished, she pours herself another before climbing on the counter top, crossing one leg over the other as she tries to tune back into whatever it was Gokudera was blabbing on about. ]

I think it's an especially excruciating torture to prioritize "home" relationships, then. To know what could be, and to know what only exists when we're done being played with. At least these strangers never mattered in the first place.

[ She tips her glass to him with a roll of her eyes, he'd never know how transparent she was truly being in this moment, but there was a truth to it that extended even beyond Zuko. Azula slaps her free hand on the space beside her, groaning loudly. ]

Self-deprecation is boring. Either leave the insulting entirely to me or not at all.