Word travelled fast in a small town. And it travelled at its fastest in the pubs and bars and places of social interaction. One quiet word was overheard while Buffy poured a mid-afternoon drink and it cut her to the quick. Suki, gone?

Sokka. With so much alacrity, she raced for her journal -- knocking over a row of three clean glasses on the way. How clumsy; how rushed. They shattered on the bar's hard floor and Buffy ignored while she flipped through pages and...sure enough, there was an announcement. She came to it a few hours late. That wasn't going to stop her.

She hastened her way through cleaning up the broken glass -- successfully cutting open the side of her thumb in the process -- and left the bar to look after itself. And why not? Some things were more important than making sure miscreants didn't overindulge from behind the counter.

Picking at the bandaid she'd wrapped around her finger, Buffy rounded the corner of House Avatar. She was planning to come upon Sokka's window and give it a good rat-a-tat-tatting, not expecting the front door to be a viable option. And she preferred windows, really. More intimate. Somehow.

And so -- unless there are some awkward curtains in the way -- she comes across his bedroom from the outside of the house, looking through the glass and catching sight of one of those Kyoshi stances. Her breath caught uncomfortably in her throat.

Tap tap tap.