"Chocolat, really?" He blinked, projecting casual innocence. "I must've managed to avoid her down here so far. Hey, have a seat."

He gestured at one of the open pods -- the sides almost made a decent spot to sit, and he doubted Azula would want to sit on the floor like he was. Hauling himself up to something closer to a normal sitting position, he ran a hand through his hair to fix his bangs.

His ankle was killing him. Stupid fucking sprain.

"Also," he added, pouting at her, "I have it on the best authority that I don't snore."