He's quiet for a long moment, looking down at their hands, both mittened and warm in leather and fur, skin hidden from each other. He'd wanted to touch her yesterday, but nearly as much as he'd wanted to stay away from her.

Today, it's-- almost the opposite.

"The storm should last a few days," Sokka reports, quiet. "Maybe a week. I won't be sure until it gets here. You should go when it does, before another one picks up."