you would think that the food festival would be sokka’s favorite time of year. instead, it was a slow torture as delicious smells wafted around him. people passed with bacon on a stick and sokka languished in the coffee cart. he was just making himself some sort of whipped cream golem that sat directly on the countertop when he noticed the shadow of a customer approaching. he swatted his creation into the sink as he turned, and felt his heart drop into his stomach. still, though, he didn’t miss a beat. “oh! hey. pour-over guy, right?” like he didn’t make a hundred of those every day. “what can i get for you?” he realized what he said just a moment too late, and he swore he felt every muscle lock up. @cherrysunset