[Sokka flashed a smile, almost convincingly genuine, before ducking down to rustle about some boxes behind the counter. After finding what he was looking for, he stood up and held a crude looking necklace. A leather strand lined with a collection of silver buttons, pressed back to back against one another, beads separating each pair. It was perhaps not high fashion, but it was clear he'd made it himself. He held it out for her.]

You could wear this. And when she asks, you can say it was a token of my affection. My fake affection, of course. But she doesn't have to know that.