Tenzin stared at his reflection in the mirror, trying to recognize himself. He knew his eyes and his mouth, but the rest was lost in new details. A bared head, blue arrows; he had never looked more like his father, which thrilled and terrified him.

At eighteen, he was still young to be a master, though not as young as Aang. That bothered him more than he would admit to anyone, save himself – well, perhaps there was one more.

Lin leaned against the doorway. He could see her green eyes flicker up and down, taking in his new look.

"Well?"

She smiled and walked towards him. "Well what?"

"Do you like them?" he asked, relieved that his voice was steady.

She slowly circled around him, the critical look of hers that he usually loved making his insides feel full of jellyflies. Finally she paused in front of him, then smiled.

"They suit you, Twinkle Junior."

He managed not to cringe at the nickname, instead letting himself beam at the praise. "You really think so?"

She raised an eyebrow, then leaned in. "I know so," she whispered, before pressing her lips against his.

Tenzin closed his eyes and let the kiss erase all his fears and doubts. It wasn't hard, since kissing Lin tended to make his brain stop working. Unfortunately, his brain not working meant that he couldn't remind her that the new tattoos were a bit on the tender side.

"Ow!"

Lin stepped back, looking at him in surprise. "Ow? That wasn't exactly the reaction I was going for."

His cheeks began to burn. "No, I … it's not you, it's just that I'm still, well, healing and all, so …"

"Aaaah, I see," she said, nodding. "Well, that's too bad."

Tenzin frowned. "Why's that?"

Lin leaned forward again, and whispered into his ear, "Because it means I have to wait to try all the that I want to do to you and your tattoos right now."

His cheeks were now on fire, his heart beating hard to fan those flames. He tried to think of anything he could actually say to that but before he had the chance, she turned and walked away from him, back to the door and out. All he could do was stare and try to remember how to speak the sole syllable of her name.

He glanced back at his reflection, noting that he was red as a tomato. Somehow though, it made the markings look that much more impressive. Or maybe it was just the memory of being told they looked good.

Either way, they could not heal fast enough.