Apr 29
The door slammed open hard enough to rattle the hinges as a bundled heap of fabric went flying across the room.
“Catch.” The shirts sailed through the air in a messy pile, landing in messy heap on top of Zuko.
Jet leaned against the doorframe like he owned the place, arms crossing as a crooked grin pulled at his mouth. “Figured you’d need those. You know—since you’ve got a habit of leaving your chest pillows out.”
Zuko rolled his eyes as he pulled the shirts off his head, tossing them on the ground. "You're back late," replied Zuko, going to grab a towel from the linen closet.
"I was out training. I get hot — is that allowed, Jet?