The particular danger of being a firebender in an integrated city was that at night—especially when the moon was full—you were always susceptible to your antithesis: roving waterbenders. Crane had always scoffed at this threat, and his penchant for midnight walks always outweighed his distrust of strangers, even during the moon's most formidable phase. Besides, he so often left the university where he worked last, much too absorbed in his scholarly tomes to effectively monitor the time. It wasn't as if he couldn't defend himself anyways, even when he was at a disadvantage. He had always been remarkably gifted, both in his mind and in his connection to his patron element. He was dignified, highly educated, domineering, and controlled, just as a prototypical Fire Nation descendant ought to be. Of course, he was raised by an immigrant, so that was only natural.
So of course he wasn't afraid in the face of confrontation, but rather enraged, despite his immobility.
"A mouse—of a mouse—to a mouse—a mouse—o mouse!"
It had taken him a moment to guess what had happened, but sure as he suddenly found himself immobile, the old professor's mind snapped to work. The only explanation was that he'd come to grips with a bloodbender, whom he could only guess was both an outlaw and utterly deranged, as that type often tended to be. One look at the man's shining, toothy grin and wide eyes could at least confirm the latter assumption, and his masterful grip on the art of manipulating bodily fluids verified that he was highly practiced and indeed a criminal.
No matter how Jonathan struggled, he couldn't budge free so much as an inch, and at this time of night, there was no one around to rescue him. Not that they would have. All that he could do was to hiss against the awful sensation of pins and needles shooting through his arms and legs as his rambling captor drew closer still.
"I sent a message to the fish, I told them: this is what I wish…"