"Love doesn't wait for the empty."
He turns, a swish of fabric and a twitch of hand. "You can't know that."
Iroh nods, a slight bend of his ageing neck. "Perhaps. But, my dear Prince Zuko, what can you possibly gain by waiting?"
Zuko faces the sea again, toes digging deeper into the sand, and squints into his sun, who snakes water through her hands and rises to meet the tide. She laughs, relishing the feel of the earth's tears. He droops quietly, and it might have been missed but for keen golden eyes that have seen more than enough.
"An opportunity," he replies.