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Petch found himself in Ba Sing Se a lot. It wasn't that he had any particular fondness for the city, but when one traveled around, it seemed impossible to not keep coming back to the high-walled city.

It didn't hurt that work could nearly always been found somewhere within the walls in a relatively short period of time.

Today, however, he was trying his chances with selling his healing services, as, well, healing involved considerably less heavy lifting than most jobs in Ba Sing Se. His muscles had still not fully recovered from hefting around several rock boxes a few days prior.

Notice something strange with that picture?

Even when faced with irritating muscle pains, Petch still refused to heal himself. There were no trophy scars to be had, but the man was simply stubborn. He had propped his oar up like a walking stick and was leaning against it for support as he scanned the fast moving crowd. Petch was just a number of shabby looking, boothless vendors along the pathway. The man next to him only had a blanket to spread his wares out on. Strange pieces of jewelry that looked suspiciously overpriced. Petch had been enough places to recognize fake jewelry when he saw it.

But that was really no concern of his. The other man was trying to make a living, just like he was. Taking a deep breath, Petch's voice boomed over the crowd as he yelled, "Healer here. Anyone need healing?"

It probably wasn't helping business that he was sporting a prominent black-eye he'd acquired the day before.

Petch groaned audibly as the monk came towards him. How in a city as large as Ba Sing Se did he keep running into people he knew? Knowing the way things had been going lately, he wouldn't have been surprised if his mother had miraculously appeared from behind Namkha.

He did notice the limp right away, but he couldn't help but want to see the monk continue to limp around, if only because of the romantic evening in a jail cell for two they had shared together. Oh, yes, it was so tempting to send Nam on his way.

"Are you actually a monk," Petch shot back, looking surly. Money. Money was necessary for buying food. Unless you fished for your meals. Or stole someone else's catch. Ba Sing Se didn't lend itself to either though. So much damn rock.

Grumbling, he continued, "Are you calling me a liar? You just doubled the price."

"Yeah, I noticed," Petch responded, leaning heavier against his oar and feeling quite pleased to have the upper hand. His grin, however, was anything but pleasant.

"Can't do much of anything for you if you don't got money though," Petch said with mock-sincerity for Nam's plight. "I've gotta eat after all."

Unsurprising, Petch thought. This jerk fed off the kindness of others. How despicable. And not entirely unlike what Petch did. But Petch liked to tell himself that he worked for most of what he had.

"Did you not notice the part where I can't stand you?" Petch.. was not the open minded sort. Not at all. He was more the sort that bucked up at anything someone said if he'd decided he didn't like them. Or even if he didn't have as much of a problem with them as he did with Namkha. "I think I'd rather make your legs a matching pair," he sneered.

Petch made a face. He didn't like Nam being right. But Nam was right. Petch's ideal lifestyle was moving around constantly and getting into fights along the way. Having to work to feed himself was more a necessary evil than something he actually enjoyed.

"Fine. Gimme your leg."

Petch uncorked the small water pouch at his side and without any gentle bedside manner, grabbed the leg in question and pulled it toward him so he could work. As he hovered his hands near Namkha's leg, the water inside his pouch snaked out and twisted and curled itself around the injured appendage. As it wrapped tighter, it began to glow and dissipated, as if being absorbed inside of his leg.

"Ta-da."