Published April 12, 2012
They had run out of things to say to each other.
Ozai passed his cup back to her, and as she took it, their hands brushed against each other. It was the first time they'd had physical contact – even while healing him Katara had never actually touched him. For a moment his hand lingered on her soft skin, longer than it should have. It was almost unnoticeable, except that they tended to be hyperaware around each other – or at least, they used to be.
But she didn't miss it. She gasped, wrenching her hand away. Her expression became angry, insulted, and a little frightened. She stood quickly – she was strong and agile, unlike him – and started to stream water from her pouch, holding it up with a threatening expression.
She stood in a defensive stance for a moment, but then lowered her arms, returning the water to her canteen. "You're not worth my time. You've made that quite clear."
And with that she turned and walked away. She thought about turning around and telling him he was a disgusting, pathetic old man; but she didn't. She just walked away, and she didn't look back.