I'm terribly sorry it took me so long to get out another chapter. I've been hit with a horacious bout of laziness in general. That and I spent most of my time rereading the last Harry Potter book so that I might actually remember what the hell is happening to the little gits before the next book comes out in July. If you're a diehard Harry Potter fan and have been insulted by my previous joke I apologize. Anyway enough of my bad jokes. You did click on my story to read another chapter I believe.

Fourteen years ago…

As Ozai prepared to take off for the day, he snatched up his dark colored hat to keep his head warm during the harsh city winter. "Don't forget to get your sister after school!" he shouted back to his son at the breakfast table, who nodded. Ozai tipped the hat over onto his head.

It took barely a moment to realize that something was terribly wrong with his hat. He could feel powerful furry and clawed feet scrambling wildly and tangling his carefully combed hair. His swiftly yanked the hat from his scalp and a large white rabbit slid off from his head and bounded away down the hall.

Ozai swelled with rage. "ZUKO! I TOLD YOU TO KEEP THE EFFING RABBITS OUT OF MY HATS! I ALSO TOLD YOU TO GET RID OF THEM!" Ozai's face was tinted a deep scarlet. "It's Iroh," he said angrily, mostly to himself. "He's encouraging him. IROH!"

Ozai's squat older brother bumbled into the kitchen. "Yes, brother?"

"For the last time, stop buying the boy magic shit."

"Oh, it's hardly shit, Ozai. It's quite a worthy career. Honestly, have you heard of how much magicians make?"

Ozai's expression looked deadly. "Yes, it's like prostitute money. Filthy," he spat. He rounded on a very pale Zuko. "You will not be a magician," he said softly. "You will not bring such shame on our family."

"Yes, father."

Present day at the Frivol's Frivolous Ballroom Dance Center…

Azula entered the Dance Center tentatively. She dreaded going in to learn how to dance, but her father had insisted that as a polite lady she must learn. She always did what her father told her. As she glanced around the studio her gut dropped even more. She knew exactly who one of the instructors was and with her recent luck, she was most likely to be taught by him. She approached the counter. "I'm Azula," she said. "I'm here for my lesson."

The secretary glanced through a book of records. "Oh, yes. Just a minute." The secretary glided across the floor, clearly a dancer by her posture and tapped a shaggy-haired man on the shoulder. He turned his head around and let go of his partner. He nodded once or twice then accompanied the secretary back to the desk. The secretary beamed at Azula. "This is Jet. He will be your instructor. You're very lucky, by the way," she added.

Before Azula could ask why, Jet was leading her across the wooden floor to the far end of the studio. He stared at her for a moment. Azula could not bare this silence in which she felt he held some sort of advantage over her, so she spoke. "Fallen out of any ceilings lately?"

"Thrown anyone out a window lately?" Jet countered.

Azula narrowed her eyes. "Yes." Well, that sure left him speechless. "You're supposed to teach me to dance," she prompted.

"Right. The Waltz. Typically with ballroom, the male leads and the female follows, so I'll teach you the following steps." He stood beside her. "The Waltz is three steps. First step back on your right foot." Azula imitated him. "Now brush past and to the side with your left foot. Then together with your right." Azula followed the three steps. "Now that's half a box. Then you step forward on your left. Brush to the side with your right. Then together with your left." He demonstrated and Azula copied. "Now put it together." Azula repeated the six steps mechanically.

"Now you don't just waltz on flat feet," Jet continued. "You step down on your first step and up on the second and third steps." Jet demonstrated and Azula copied. He watched her. "Good." He turned around to face her.

She looked at him suspiciously. "Everyone waltzes with a partner," he said smugly. Jet took hold of her arms and bent them into place. "So I put my hand behind your left shoulder and you put your right hand on my arm like this," he said, placing said hands and arms in the proper positions. "Then you hold my other hand and we keep our arms up like this."

"And then?" Azula questioned.

"And then we waltz."

Jet slowly led her through the steps. They fell into the rhythmic three steps of the lulling waltz. Azula almost felt like she could fall asleep. She glanced around fiercely, trying to find an object to concentrate on other than Jet's face. But everything else around her was constantly moving. The only thing that stayed the same was Jet as he moved with her across the floor. She felt very uncomfortable every time she actually did look at him because his gaze never left her face.

Azula stopped, jarring them out of the smooth rhythm. She extracted herself from Jet's grasp. "I, um, gotta go."

"But-"

But Azula had already fled.

Outside the bathroom door at the apartment…

Aang waited patiently outside the bathroom door. Tiny bits of brown stubble were starting to grow in on his typically bald head, blurring his arrow in an unsightly manner. Aang could not resist running his hand over the stubble every now and then, becoming more and more anxious about the necessity of shaving.

Toph was showering at the moment and her loud voice could be heard over the pounding water and through the door. "If you want to destroy my sweater, hold this thread as I walk away!"

Aang smirked.

"Watch me unravel, I'll soon be naked. Lying on the floor, I've come undone!"

"Toph could you hurry up in there?" Aang pleaded, running his hand once more over the brown stubble.

"Shut it, Arrowhead!"

Passing by the pet shop…

Katara gazed longingly at the little puppies and kittens in the pet store window. She looked up at Zuko, whose shoulder her head rested most comfortably on. "Can we get a pet?" she asked.

Zuko looked down at her. "Why?"

"Well since you refuse to get married or impregnate me…" Katara began.

"Katara!" Zuko gasped, scandalized.

"I'm kidding."

"Good."

"I think a pet would be fun." She pushed her lower lip forward. "Pllllleeeaaassee?"

At a random poetry reading in some random coffee house where a bunch of artsy looking posers in burettes, with goatees, clutching bits of sucky poems scribbled angstily on bits of napkins and toilet paper because they wish they really had moments of inspiration where there is nowhere to write except on such paper goods, stare up at a small stage…

Iroh gazed down from the microphone at the fake angsty crowd. They all stared at him incredulously. "Ahem, my poem is called 'The Fluffy Little Cloud.'"

"OH, fluffy little cloud you ride so high

Brushing fingertips with the sun and stars

The emo poser stares up at you and pretends to hate you

In his heart he knows nothing

He does not know who he is

He does not know what he is

He barely knows that he is

Oh fluffy little cloud you ride so high

Taking hate up in the sky

Fall down

Fall down

For hope is no more"

The crowd gaped at Iroh. He walked off the stage and out of the coffee house with a feeling of great satisfaction in his gut.

Well that is all for now. I hope you enjoyed that. I like this chapter much better than most of my recent ones. Leave a review and I'll try to be a bit more timely with my updates. Aloha.