There are times, when the tables are full and the sweets run short and his nephew pleads with him in grating accents to hurry a pot of tea which cannot be hurried, when Iroh chuckles, though he knows the sound risks snapping Zuko's racked nerves. At other times he counsels a sensible patience: those who come to taste "the finest tea in the city" won't begrudge the wait, once the tea proves as fine as its reputation.
But when his patrons clamor for more, Iroh cannot help but smile. At long last, he thinks, I have conquered Ba Sing Se.