Hong really sucked at his job. After all, he was supposed to be interviewing Zuko, wasn't he? Somehow it felt like it was the other way around. They were already twenty-five minutes into their weekly meeting, and he'd spent the majority of it prattling on about himself, or else some topic he probably thought was tangentially related. Zuko had stopped listening a while ago. He'd occasionally punctuate Hong's monologue with a "yeah" or an "uh-huh," but otherwise he kept his eyes trained on the wall clock just behind Hong's head.

In addition to dealing with Hong's all-around mediocrity, Zuko was just so tired. That part was his own fault, he had to admit. And the hangover. As much as he wished he could somehow pin those conditions on Hong, Zuko knew he had no one but himself to blame. No one had forced him to stay awake until five A.M. the previous night. No one, except perhaps, his own turbulent thoughts. But he might blame Hong anyway. It just felt better that way. Yeah, fuck Hong.

"Yep," Zuko monotoned at an interval where it seemed appropriate.

Hong chuckled his grating, nasally chuckle. He always sounded so superior for someone so unbelievably obtuse.

"Fire Lord, I asked you how implementing your new nationwide educational standard has been coming along. 'Yep' isn't a valid answer."

You're not a valid answer, hissed Zuko's internal voice. He supplied a passable response, and then shifted his gaze from the wall clock to a nearby lampshade. Literally anything in this room was more interesting than Hong.

Last night Zuko had fallen down a metaphorical rabaroo hole. His first misstep had been breaking into his prized Suntory whisky collection. The bottles were just so handsome, with their stately labels and their various shades of translucent amber, and Zuko's head was just such an awful place to be… But that was only the first, and arguably less egregious, of his mistakes.

He missed her. He missed her so much. Most of the time he was sober enough to lie to himself about it, but last night he'd removed his mental guardrails. She was just a colleague, he'd tried to persuade himself. He only missed her in a professional capacity, he'd insisted. He only felt her absence so strongly because her replacement turned out to be an actual human dumpster fire. That last point, while objectively true, willfully ignored the heart of the matter.

But last night he'd been honest enough with himself that those arguments didn't work anymore. He saw them for the flimsy paper cut-outs they were. He missed Katara because he liked her. He liked her, she was witty and had been one of the first people in his life to extend to him a modicum of empathy, and he'd kissed her at Toph's party. Toph's stupid, crazy party that caused everything to fall apart. What if they'd only talked by the pool that night? Would she still be here? Would she be sitting across from him right now, asking him fascinating questions instead of Hong sitting here asking his irrelevant, invasive ones?

Zuko wasn't proud to admit that he'd googled her. What kind of stalker weirdo does that? He did, apparently. He was the stalker weirdo, but last night he'd been too drunk to care. It started by clicking on her staff profile at EKPR. Zuko had really only wanted to see her again, he knew he wouldn't learn anything he didn't already know.

"How do you respond to critics who say that modernizing the Fire Nation's economy according to your plan is unrealistic in the timeframe?"

"Uh, I don't, really."

Her staff profile picture must've been a few years old, probably from when she was first hired. Her hair was longer and her face looked younger. There was a little blurb about her underneath the photo. That she was born in the Southern Water Tribe, that she'd earned her bachelor's at the University of Ba Sing Se, that she was best known for her work on International Hour…

"What are your thoughts on transitioning the Fire Nation's government to a democracy?"

"I don't have any."

He'd followed links from EKPR's website to her various social media profiles. First he found her official account in which she represented herself as a journalist. She never posted anything deeply personal on that one, only announcements and other information related to her job. Every now and then she added a selfie with her coworkers (Zuko recognized Cheng in one of them), but that was the most intimate it got. There was nothing about Sokka or her father.

"Do you have a strong sense of being your father's successor? Do you ever draw on his leadership style?"

"I am not my father."

A bit of amateur sleuthing led him to Katara's personal account. The profile picture was her, but in a floppy wide brimmed hat and dark tinted sunglasses, you'd have to have seen her in person to recognize her. She was smiling. Zuko thought he could make out an overexposed beach in the background. She must've been on vacation somewhere, maybe Kyoshi Island. Katara had once told him that her sister-in-law was from there. She looked like she was having fun. It was time stamped over a year ago. He wondered if she was smiling right now, wherever she was.

"What kind of legacy do you hope to leave behind?"

"I don't know."

She reposted a lot of articles from political science journals. That was hardly surprising. Katara was always overflowing with her analyses of current events, and would share them with anyone who cared. She posted about other things too. There was a small photo album of a housewarming party she threw for Sokka and his wife, whose name was Suki, according to the tags. Suki was heavily pregnant in the pictures. Zuko remembered Katara talking about her triplet nephews, so the photos must've been old. She had brought them a platter of homemade daifukumochi. Zuko never knew that she liked cooking. Or maybe she hated it, but she just loved her brother and his family that much.

"How do you plan to enforce the tightened opium restrictions? Will the punishments for possession become more severe going forward?"

"Sure, probably."

Somehow he wound up on a website that appeared to be a social network for business professions, which, in Zuko's opinion, entirely defeated the procrastinatory appeal of social networks. Whatever. Katara had an account, which meant his pathetic pursuit of her digital footprint led him there. It mostly rehashed information he'd already read on her EKPR staff profile, and most of that he knew already from talking to her. Her education, her prior jobs, her professional skills… It must've been updated more recently than the EKPR website, because it listed information that EKPR didn't. For example, she had a PhD in political science. He knew she had a higher degree, but he'd always assumed it was in journalism. Her photo was more recent, too. EKPR probably hadn't updated its information since Katara was hired. A lot had happened since then.

"Have you put any thought into who will replace Minister Hansuke as minister of international relations?"

"Not particularly."

"Really? I'd have thought that would be a pressing concern of yours at this point."

Ugh. This guy.

"Well. It's not."

Hong shot him a smug, knowing look. It made Zuko's blood boil. What did he think he knew, anyway?

"Alright, but you'll have to replace Minister Hansuke eventually. You'll need someone well versed in international politics, with a good classical education to serve as a foundation."

Was this dude seriously telling Zuko how to do his job? He knew the job qualifications. It was his council. Not Hong's.

Hong chattered on.

"Someone with an established network in the right circles. You don't want to be introducing your minister of international relations at cocktail parties. It's their job to know people. If anything, they ought to be introducing you."

"I don't need an introduction."

"Right, of course not. Everyone knows who you are, given the circumstances of your coronation. Plus, you've got a rather memorable face."

Zuko was this close to storming out again. If Hong took any notice, he didn't show it.

"You'll want someone smart, obviously."

So not you? Zuko thought.

"Someone you can trust to give reliable advice. Someone who knows your leadership style inside and out. Heck, someone who knows you inside and out. Someone who practically knows what you're going to do before you do it."

Some big help this was. Zuko didn't have anyone who knew him that well, and certainly no one he could trust so closely. No one except…

"What did you just say?" Zuko interrupted Hong's rambling.

"Um, which part? I said a lot."

"You know what? Never mind," Zuko waved him off and began to collect a few of his belongings.

"What? Where are you going?" Hong demanded.

Zuko grabbed his jacket. "Nowhere. Shut up."

"Wait! Fire Lord! We're still on the record!" Hong yelled after him as Zuko slipped through the doorway.

For once in his life, Hong had actually provided some valuable insight, and he didn't even know it. Zuko knew exactly what he needed to do.