"We're not supposed to be in here."
"It's your kitchen."
"I'm not supposed to be in here either."
"Scared, Fire Lord?"
"You don't know the cook like I do."
"I'll take my chances."
Keeping low, Katara creeps along the front of the shelves. Zuko sighs but follows.
She grins. "You get the tea, I'll get the cakes."
They divide on separate paths through the palace kitchen. They move with enough grace and stealth to break into a military base.
But tonight, they are satisfied with their spoils from the kitchen. They retreat, laughing, to a midnight picnic on the roof.