If Katara is sure of anything, it's that she's not the naive little girl she was when she left the South Pole nine months ago. Her journey with Aang and the others has been the most formative experience of her life, and it's taught her that a smiling face isn't a guarantee of real friendship. Jet had taught her that. Hama had taught her that. But she had also learned that people could become better than they were, could learn and grow as she herself had.
Clint is still a stranger, but he seems like a well-meaning one, and she's not going to let a few bad experiences keep her from trusting new people. She'll need all the friends and allies she can get on this alien world, and if he really is in the business of helping people as he says he is, maybe he'll be a good one to have. So, when he suggests they work together, she bobs her head in a little nod. "Okay. We'll work together, then--I'll watch your back and you watch mine. My friends and I..." The melancholy she feels thinking of her friends hasn't dissipated yet, but she carries on smiling. "Well, we're also in the business of helping people. That's kind of our thing." And isn't that the understatement of the century?
"Sokka--my brother--is kind of a genius," Katara offers in response to Clint's gentle prompting. "Nobody can throw a boomerang like he can. He always comes up with the best plans, too, and he tells great jokes. I don't know what we would have done without him around." As she speaks, her smile shifts, loosening into something very fond, rather than the forced expression from earlier. "I know he felt kind of left out for a while because he can't bend like the rest of us, but he found a master to teach him to fight, and he made his own sword and everything!" Maybe it's too much information, but talking about Sokka makes her feel a little better, at least.
The question about self defense has Katara arching her brows, and she's reminded again that not everyone knows what bending is. Nobody here will, probably. Instead of trying to explain straight away, she nods. "I'm a master," she says, choosing to demonstrate instead. The cork pops off of her waterskin and she draws out a stream of water. It shimmers in the light, looping and separating into individual spheres and drops of water. Her fingers tighten, bent like claws, and each floating drop freezes into a jagged, icy dagger. "See?" She melts them again, confident that she's made her point.
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Clint is still a stranger, but he seems like a well-meaning one, and she's not going to let a few bad experiences keep her from trusting new people. She'll need all the friends and allies she can get on this alien world, and if he really is in the business of helping people as he says he is, maybe he'll be a good one to have. So, when he suggests they work together, she bobs her head in a little nod. "Okay. We'll work together, then--I'll watch your back and you watch mine. My friends and I..." The melancholy she feels thinking of her friends hasn't dissipated yet, but she carries on smiling. "Well, we're also in the business of helping people. That's kind of our thing." And isn't that the understatement of the century?
"Sokka--my brother--is kind of a genius," Katara offers in response to Clint's gentle prompting. "Nobody can throw a boomerang like he can. He always comes up with the best plans, too, and he tells great jokes. I don't know what we would have done without him around." As she speaks, her smile shifts, loosening into something very fond, rather than the forced expression from earlier. "I know he felt kind of left out for a while because he can't bend like the rest of us, but he found a master to teach him to fight, and he made his own sword and everything!" Maybe it's too much information, but talking about Sokka makes her feel a little better, at least.
The question about self defense has Katara arching her brows, and she's reminded again that not everyone knows what bending is. Nobody here will, probably. Instead of trying to explain straight away, she nods. "I'm a master," she says, choosing to demonstrate instead. The cork pops off of her waterskin and she draws out a stream of water. It shimmers in the light, looping and separating into individual spheres and drops of water. Her fingers tighten, bent like claws, and each floating drop freezes into a jagged, icy dagger. "See?" She melts them again, confident that she's made her point.