[03:03] Z u k o -: Zuko wasn't blind to the way that Aang seemed temporarily enraptured by the statue; this had been a source of that first, admittedly selfish hope. He nodded, understanding that most things took time when it came to spirits. The Avatar spoke the truth whether it was to pauper or monarch; and Zuko had formerly been one and now the other. "You're right." was his seemingly simple response to all that Aang had said. The gentle tone of his voice was laced with a sigh. Even absolute monarchs weren't afforded much leniency when it came to issues like this: there was almost never a quick and easy solution to matters of state. "But you're right about something else, too. We have done this before." If Aang knew him as he thought he did, the words and the smile Zuko gave was confirmation of his agreement with the Avatar's plan of easing carefully into this, the bright embers of his eyes moving from the sacred into the realm of his personal enjoyment, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked to Aang again. "I found something when I was buying books to fill the shelves up." He moved towards a richly apholstered divan, picking up a leatherbound book that was emblazoned with the words "The Prince's Diary". It was just one of several pieces of "literature" that their adventures had inspired, and this one was claiming to be constructed from his own diaries.

"I didn't know until I read this that I spent so much time chasing you because I was madly in love with you." The Firelord's lips twitched up in that small, almost shy smile. He had called him here on business, yes, but His Majesty felt that they were afforded a little brevity, some time to catch up. He shook his head slightly and put the book on the table, looking to Aang again. "Sokka's been writing me for a while now. Sometimes I wonder what he'd have to say about all this." Not that he didn't value Aang's opinion -- it was obvious he did, whether said in an official capacity or as a friend.
[03:49] Aang valued Zuko's opinions greatly when it came to feedback, and to find that Zuko didn't have much to say in return surprises the Avatar.. And gives him a sense of accomplishment. Was his response really that thorough? It weren't as though Aang doubted himself, but.. Man, that was cleaner than he expected. Keeping his posture tall and proud, the monk questions visibly with his eyes what it is that the Firelord is headed to retrieve, his gaze following him curiously as he maneuvers away and, with one last glance to the statue as if it were sentient, moving to follow over toward him. When his grasp emerges with the book, he's attempting to peer at whatever it is scribbled along the front, wandering idly what the book would have to do with the Politics that they were discussing, before the Firelord's comment just entirely yanks the carpet out from under him. Had he heard right? Was it a joke? It was hardly anything that Aang was able to take seriously; so out of the blue and during such a moment of business discussion... It had to be a joke. There was no use in trying to configure a response, as nothing would come to the Avatar's slightly ajar lips, his widened eyes blinking back their utter confusion in favor of flickering their lashes to the book that was settled on the table. 'The Prince's Diary'. ".. Oh,"

The mention of Sokka takes him back to a place of comfort within the conversation. It was Katara who construed her letters with her brother, and as such, Aang hadn't written him.. Personally. It's something he regrets in truth, and this only reinstates the thought that he shouldn't rely on Katara to convey the things that are happening, or perhaps how much the Avatar misses his dear friend. There was no excuse. "I'd like to be able to tell you my best guess; but I think Sokka's the hardest to read out of anyone I know." With a careful smile, Aang sighs through his nose almost nostalgically toward the conversation. "I guess that's why I've come to value his advice so much.. Even when it is kinda, uh.. Questionable." His form leans, reaching toward the book, when the tattooed grasp pauses open handed just above it. He looks up to the Firelord as though seeking permission. "May I?"