A. N. : Today, in words do not always mean what you think they mean... pirates ! Anyway, watch out for some racial/ethnic prejudice and threats of violence in this chapter. I'll provide a summary of the chapter for those who don't feel up to it at the start of the next one, as has become habit. But yeah uh, Fire Nation my dudes, gotta address some of that imperialist and racist dogma. Have a good one ?

The pirate stares at Mai.

She does the same. Of course she does, can't let his kind out of sight, not when Azula is unconscious and Mai just bought an obnoxiously expensive fan that sticks out of her belt for the world to see – a target painted bright on her belly.

Mai puts her arms in her sleeves, grabs one of the blades hidden there. To the pirate, it must look like she is simply making herself comfortable, holding herself politely while resting her arms.

How may I help you ?

In the corner of her eye, Mai sees that Ty Lee and Qin caught up to her, and that Ty Lee's posture is now even tenser than before, although her smile shows nothing of the sort.

Qin seems unaware of the situation however, answering the pirate honestly – they need a healer, Azula is ill, could you –

The pirate nods.

He rises to his feet slowly, carrying the preparation he was grinding down in one hand. Coupled with his wrinkles and hair color, it wouldn't be surprising for his physical abilities to be diminished, making a confrontation easy for Mai to win – or it could be a ruse, as everyone knows those people cannot be trusted.

Please come in, he says, leading them into the house. Mai and Ty Lee look at each other as Qin bows and takes off his shoes on the porch, before entering, Azula still on his back. Ty Lee follows quickly after them. So does Mai.

As Qin and the pirate lay Azula down on a cot, Mai takes the opportunity to look around the single room. Aside from the absurdly small size of the house – which, it bears repeating, is composed of a single room, and Mai could not in a hundred years picture herself living in that – the décor is oddly… normal.

A hearth at the center, two cots lying parallel to each other, one on each side of the hearth. In the back, a collection of jars, the largest one holding a ladle atop its lid, leading Mai to believe there's fresh water inside it.

Drawers upon drawers, one resembling a simpler version of the dresser Mai used to put her clothes in, while another with smaller compartments looks like something one could find at any apothecary, albeit smaller.

Combs and brushes and a mirror rest atop the clothes drawer.

There are scrolls in small shelves in a corner of the room.

It's almost shocking how normal everything is. Small, yes, and so poor Mother would have a heart attack at the idea of Mai standing in the vicinity, in fear of the poverty rubbing off on their name, and yet still recognizable as a civilized place.

It puts Mai on edge. Like the house itself is trying to trick her into a false sense of security, like she could somehow trust a pirate not to double-cross her and take advantage of the situation.

People trust healers. In that sense, it's the perfect cover for someone of his ilk.

And still, in spite of Azula's weakness and Mai's fan, he acts like a normal person – to make them drop their guard, surely, but –

He checks Azula's pulse against his own, presses the back of his hand to her forehead, listens to her breathing, asks Qin a number of questions – when did the fever start, when did she lose consciousness, has she eaten or drunk anything unusual, has she experienced a shock of any kind recently, is she a bender –

The pirate acts like the healer he is pretending to be, like his arms aren't permanently ink-stained and he isn't planning to rob them blind, like he is a civilized person and not the barbarous two-faced snake-fox Mai knows he is.

It's unbearable.

She barely listens to his talk of a bender's illness, of mental turmoil and its effects on chi being exacerbated to the point an internal struggle takes on a physical form, and how nothing can be done outside of simply keeping the fever in check.

Mai has had enough. Ozai, Azula, Ty Lee, Qin, the letter she sent her parents renouncing everything she ever knew, that spirits damned merchant and her stupid fan and her so-called healer who pretends he can't do anything to help –

She draws her knife.

Immediately, Ty Lee falls in position, the same as Mai would've done in her stead, without question. Qin frowns, apparently taken aback – he does not know, of course he doesn't, these people are a Fire Nation issue, especially ever since Fire Lord Azulon, in his grace, welcomed them into the islands, into the army, into the schools – but does not make a move otherwise.

The pirate looks at Mai, at her knife, tenses – he looks scared, as he should. Raises his empty hands slowly.

Heal her, Mai orders. Don't lie, she adds at his pretence of helplessness.

Ty Lee falters a little, looks at Mai while biting her lip, but before she can explain her hesitation, the pirate – eyes closed, head lowered – tries to justify himself once more.

He cannot heal Azula. Only she can find an equilibrium to her mental turmoil, and only then will she wake up. An acupuncture master or a fire healer could make the process less painful, but there is no miracle cure.

If I could help her, I would, I promise.

Mai doesn't need Ty Lee to tell her that the pirate's aura indicates truth or whatever. She knows. She knows.

She knows and it makes her sick.

She sheathes her blade.

Leaves without another word.