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This was not how Namkha had imagined spending his evening.

His visions of a peaceful walk through the city's streets or perhaps even a cozy night in the room that he had managed to pay a small family for were ruined. The worst part was that it was not his fault, but at least he had a target for his irritation. He had only stepped in to protect the peace, and because of the out of place looking earth kingdom man he was being punished for disturbing it. As they were both delivered to their steel cell and Petch's two companions to another, Nam fixed Petch with a glare that remained as he was checked over again for weaponry. He had long been relieved of his tonfa.

Sitting down in a huff, he threw his orange cloth around himself moodily so it obscured all the tattoos but those on his feet and forehead. He even went so far as to create a small hood out of it. "I imagine you're here just about every week. Why don't they just keep you?"

"Why is that?" He asked, lazy smile returning. Taking his foot out of his sandal, he reached out with one skinny leg and nudged Petch's thigh. "I wouldn't have thrown you through a table so you couldn't move while they cuffed you?"

"Yeah, it kind of did, didn't it?" Namkha sighed tragically. "But their buns were very nice. If you would have ordered those, neither of us would be here. What a strange creature chance is."

Nam kicked off his other shoe which clattered loudly on the floor. "I'm Namkha," he added.

"I am a man of religion," he shrugged. Once more, as when they first met, Namkha seemed amused by his new companion. Nam scooted over closer to the bars so he could almost get a look at the two grumbling earthbenders that had came with Petch. "Hey," he called, "what's your friend's name?"

"Petch," they provided, sniggering.

The monk turned back to Petch, looking pleased with himself. "No, please, don't bother yourself. It's nice to meet you, Petch."

"Come now," Namkha reassured Petch, "I'm sure you smashed a lot of heads of waiters before I came along. That's something to be proud of."

He didn't seem to take a hint from Petch's body language. Nam shrugged his cloak off his head to reveal his baldness again, assuming a more comfortable position on the hay tossed into their cell. Who knew how long it had been there. It didn't look very clean, and that did crack Namkha's cheerful mask as he looked at their temporary home distastefully. He continued in a similarly displeased tone, "And for your trouble you get one romantic night with me."

"Not until they get us out of here," he sighed miserably. He fixed Petch with a sour look. "Let's hope you don't try to play tough guy again while I'm around. I won't be so gentle with you next time just because you fluttered your eyelashes at me a little."

"Alright, sit in your corner and sulk," Nam said as he checked the hay to make sure there was nothing small and furry living in it before lying down. Even though nothing fled when he patted the straw, it smelled like rodents anyway. "Before you even think about it, there's nothing valuable on me. So you're going to have to think of another excuse to get close to me while I'm asleep."

Nam sat down, looking as dignified as possible. For someone sitting in a dirty jail cell, he still looked very crisp and clean in his orange robes. "I think I got the nicer side of the jail cell," he explained, admiring his half of stone and hay. "I see a dead rat on your side." And to prove this he pointed to what may have or may not have been a small furry corpse.