“I have decided that you are,” she points with her spoon, lobbing chocolate pudding at him in the process, “a big softie at heart. A big, homicidal, psychotic, murdering softie.” Her mouth quirks upward, going cross-eyed as she focuses on a spot of pudding on her nose. “One that likes to get innocent Avatars drunk and then feed them pudding.”
“I did not get you drunk.”
She sticks her tongue out at him. “Did to. I distinctly remember being given wine. It would seem unsightly to have the Avatar drunk in the presence of Azulon, enemy of the four nations. Kotaru would throw a fit.”
“He’s not here, though.”
“No. He’s not.” She ponders this for a moment before leaning forward to kiss him.