Johar was pretty sure his toes had fallen off some streets back. He couldn't feel them, so that had to be what had happened. He would miss them; they'd been pretty useful thus far in his life. Oh well. Best not to focus on it. After all, there were more important things going on right now. He was on a mission, and could not allow himself to be deterred. He trudged through a town, the name of which continued to escape him, on the way to Ren's place. He was going to cheer her up or die trying.

That was what he'd told himself when he left, anyway. But then, at the time he hadn’t thought he might actually come close to his demise. But Johar was not a fan of the cold, especially when it came in the form of snow. He'd bundled up of course—boots he'd just bought last week encased his feet, and his head was almost completely hidden inside a scarf he'd recently finished knitting. Even still, the chill found its way to bite at him, usually in the form of a sudden breeze that cut through his layers of protection with alarming ease. This was going to be a difficult journey.

When he'd woken that morning to see fresh snow falling on already covered streets, he had reconsidered the decision to leave his apartment. But then he'd remembered how he'd found Ren in her friend's apartment on that day: on her knees, looking as though her entire world had shattered into thousands of pieces. At the time, he hadn't known what to do or say. He'd given more tea back at his shop, but had seen in Ren's face how little it had helped. Every attempt he'd made to speak he had quickly aborted, not sure there were enough words in existence to take away the pain his friend was feeling. She'd left soon after, and he'd felt like a pretty inadequate friend. Today, he was determined to make up for that failure.

His fingers, cold and stiff, fumbled with the door to Ren's apartment building, but eventually succeeded in prying it open. He was rewarded by an exquisite blast of warm air. Johar gave himself a moment to revel in the feeling as life crept back into his digits, then continued. The path to Ren's door was pretty straightforward, though it took him a moment to remember which one was hers. He did find it, though, and knocked after only a moment's hesitation.

"Who — who is it?"

"It's Johar," he called out, his voice muffled a bit by his scarf. He paused. What should he say? What could he say? "I…I brought you some more of that tea you said you liked from my shop."

Ren blinked in surprise. Johar? Here? Now?

"Oh!" she said, once it hit her. "Oh! Yes, yes, just one moment please!"

The tall woman scrambled about her room, picking up her discarded containers hastily and dumping them all in the kitchen bin at once, making a brief, but futile attempt to mash them all down to fit. She winced as she dragged a sandalwood comb through her tangled hair. There was no time to braid it.

She slipped her sash on over her robes, then took a deep breath and answered the door.

"Johar!" She stepped aside and gestured for him to come in. "What are you doing here? It's freezing!" She shut the door firmly behind him, motioning he should take off his winter gear.

She grabbed a few nuggets of charcoal from the large sack, crouching down to slip the little kotetsu pan out from its holder under the table. As she worked to light the ebony chunks, she addressed her friend, her husky voice falsely chipper.

"I can't believe you came out here in this weather! There has to be four inches of snow out there and counting."    

As Ren called out for him to wait, Johar busied himself by trying to brush off any snow that still clung to him. It was an ungracious guest who left puddles of melted snow in his host's home. It was at times like these he wished he'd been born with Firebending so he could just dry everything off right then and there. Alas, he hadn't been so lucky, and so would have to do everything the old-fashioned way.

A minute or two later, the door opened and there was Ren. He was relieved to see that she looked mostly like herself. Her hair wasn't braided, but maybe she just wanted to try out a different style. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting—what exactly did a miserable person look like?—but he was glad to see that Ren still looked healthy. That was encouraging, and might make this a more pleasant visit.

She asked why he was there, but he was too busy extricating himself from several outer layers of clothing to respond immediately. The scarf went first, then the big, puffy winter coat he'd purchased along with his boots, and finally a sweater his mother had given him as a gift for his birthday the year prior. He kicked off his boots as well, reveling in the freedom this afforded his toes. Already things were looking up.

He watched eagerly as Ren made to light the kotetsu, remembering with great fondness the magical warmth the device produced. He was looking forward to feeling that again. He shrugged as Ren commented on the snow, though she was likely too focused on the kotetsu to see the gesture.

"Well, I just thought I'd stop by, see how you were doing," he replied, trying to match her light tone. As soon as the words left his mouth, he grimaced at how weak they sounded. You didn't "stop by" in weather like this. This had been an odyssey, and they both knew it. Johar sighed. He'd been hoping to ease into the real reason for his visit, but he wasn't sure he had the energy to maintain this cheerful façade.

"Actually, Ren, I also wanted to apologize to you. When we…went to Lemurland a few weeks ago, I feel like I was pushing you into doing something you maybe weren't quite ready to do yet. And then, afterward…I wanted to give you space, but really I should have made some effort to talk to you, offer whatever comfort I could. I should have, but I didn't. So…I'm sorry."

Her hands stilled at Johar's words; the faint glimmer of a spark faded into smoke.

Ren tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed deeply; it wasn't a sigh borne of irritation, but rather of sorrow. "Truth be told," she said, her voice cracking a little as she picked up the flint and began trying to light the coals again. "I was grateful for the silence. Even if you had said something, I doubt I'd remember... the rest of the day was a blur."

The spark caught, and she blew gently on it to heat the coals without creating flames. When she was satisfied with the results, she slipped the little pan into its holder. Straightening, she took a few steps into the kitchen and procured a small, brightly coloured box.

"Moon cakes," she said with a little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I forgot I had ordered them from a bakery in advance for the New Year. We can eat them with the tea." She held out her hands for the packet, and busied herself  with the stove. "Please, sit. Make yourself comfortable." She reddened slightly; depending on where Johar sat, he'd be able to directly see her overflowing wastebin full of Flameo cups.

She came to join him at the kotetsu while the water boiled. On a whim, she reached out and patted Johar's arm gently. "Don't feel guilty or responsible for this," she said gently. "I have been waiting for word for over a year now, but lacked the courage to see for myself."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper. Gingerly she unfolded it and showed it to Johar. The creases were worn and fraying; clearly, the paper had been unfolded and re-folded many times.

It was a photograph. Ren was in the middle, sat on a chair, dressed not in her usual Air Acolyte robes but in a beautiful silk kimono. Next to her, was a short man who, despite Ren being seated, only stood slightly taller than her. He too was dressed in traditional clothes, but unlike Ren was not looking at the camera — but rather, at her. The photo had been taken just as Ren had laughed about something that was said.

Ren traced an ink-stained finger over the man in the photo fondly. "This was taken two years ago, during the harvest festival," she murmured, her voice far away in the land of memories. "H... Han..." she paused. His name was hard to say out loud.

After a moment, she continued. "Hangetsu" — the last two syllables were emphasised as she forced herself to complete the word — "had scrimped and saved to rent me such a beautiful kimono for the festival. Never on an Acolyte's stipend could I dream of wearing such fine silks."

Taking a deep breath, she began to tell Johar about Hangetsu, slowly, haltingly. The abridged version of how they had met when he rescued her from some street harassers. How he had wooed her, slowly, charmingly. How she had danced on his feet at Lemurland, despite the height difference.

How he accepted her as she was.

She glanced down at the tabletop, pulling away from Johar. "You see," she said softly. "When I was born, I was designated as male. It's not uncommon, the Acolytes tell me. There are so many records in the Temple library about others like me, who were designated one thing at birth but found that designation to be wrong. But I didn't... I didn't know how someone else might react. We moved to Republic City so that I could live free, without the burden of those in our home village asking too many questions; my parents thought it might help if I could be how I feel from a fresh start."

The woman bowed her head, her expression obscured by a curtain of grey hair as she continued her story: how Hangetsu wanted a life with her. How they had talked about what to do about their respective jobs — he, a member of the RCPD; she, a member of the Air Acolytes — and how to create a home from two different worlds.

"But then it all fell apart, you see," she said, her voice cracking. "Amon attacked the temple. Master Tenzin and his family told us to run, to escape on the boats to the mainland. But the mainland was in turmoil too — there were fires everywhere, people running through the streets as buildings burned and fell.

"I knew that Hangetsu would be out there, helping anyone and everyone he could. Maybe I should have run to Lemurland, to wait for him, instead of boarding the train full of people trying to escape." She laughed humourlessly, finally looking up. Her glasses were smudged with tears. "After seeing his apartment though, I don't think it would have made a difference.

"When the battle was over and the city back to rights, I thought it would just be a matter of time before he looked for me. I still report in to the temple, and so I thought he'd look for me there and they'd send word to me. Or send him here. But nothing came, and eventually the days turned into weeks; the weeks turned into months; and before I knew it an entire year had passed."

She looked at Johar as best she could through her dirty lenses. "So really, it was fortuitous that we met, and that you encouraged me to visit the city. It gave me the strength I needed to confirm what I think my mind already knew but my heart refused to accept."

The tea kettle began to whistle shrilly, but Ren didn't move.    

Johar saw how Ren's hands ceased moving as he apologized, and he dreaded her response. For all he knew, she had come to terms with what had happened, and all he was doing was dragging painful memories back up. Upsetting Ren was the last thing he wanted to do. But during the last few weeks, the memory of seeing Ren on her knees in her friend's apartment had weighed heavily on his heart. He couldn't have called himself her friend if hadn't at least tried to make up for his inaction back then.

Ren excused his silence, but that didn't really make him feel better or clarify how she felt about the whole situation. As she continued to fiddle with the kotetsu, Johar stood where he was and fidgeted. He had spent the long trek over to Ren's apartment figuring out exactly how to say what he needed to say. Now that he'd said, that his feelings were out in the open, he wasn't sure how to proceed. That would depend entirely, he knew, on whatever Ren said next.
But instead of responding in-depth, she finished lighting the kotetsu and went to go get something from the kitchen. She came back and mentioned tea, but he was so lost in his own head it took him a moment to remember what she was talking about. He fumbled with his bag for a moment, but then produced the tea, handing it over with an attempt at a smile. He nodded somewhat stiffly as Ren bade him sit, and did as asked. He noticed the plethora of noodle containers spilling from her trash can, but knew better than to remark on it. How Ren chose to process her feelings was her business.

After setting the water to boil, Ren joined him at the kotetsu. He had not expected her to touch him, and though he was not the biggest fan of being touched, he did not draw away. He could appreciate the sentiment behind the gesture, as well as the words that accompanied it. What she said did help assuage some of the guilt he was feeling, but did not eradicate it entirely. It should not have taken weeks for him to come visit. Still it meant a lot that Ren didn't seem to resent his lapse in attention in the past weeks. "Thank you, Ren," he muttered, actually smiling this time.

Then Ren pulled something out of her pocket: a folded piece of paper that revealed itself to be a photograph. Johar's eyes widened as he looked at the picture. He'd only seen Ren in her Air Acolyte robes; she looked so different in the kimono. His eyes moved back to the woman as she spoke, finally saying her friend's name—Hangetsu. As she spoke of him, how she had come to know him, it was clear how deeply she cared for him. Small wonder, then, that seeing his apartment abandoned had hit her so hard.

Ren glanced down, and Johar felt a noticeable shift in the tone of the conversation. Then she continued, and he understood where that feeling came from. He was not entirely unfamiliar with what Ren was talking about; for several months now, he'd been providing a special mix of herbs to a customer who felt the same way as Ren, just in the other direction. Still, it could not have been easy for Ren to tell him something so personal. The enormity of the trust she was putting in him settled on his heart, but rather than letting it crush him, Johar embraced it, honored that Ren felt free to share such important parts of herself with him.

Then Ren's story reached the events of a year ago, and it was Johar's turn to look down at the table. It remained a great source of shame for him that he had arrived in Republic City too late to help those in need immediately after chaos tore the city apart. He'd done what he could to help those around him pick up the remaining pieces of their lives, but would always curse himself for not coming to the city just a bit earlier.

Ren finished speaking, and they sat in silence. Johar jumped as the tea kettle whistled, looking sheepish. Grateful for an excuse to step away and collect his thoughts, he stood and went to retrieve the kettle and two cups. These in hand, he returned to the kotetsu. He poured Ren a cup of tea, then did the same for himself. Before he could drink, though, he needed to say something. Ren had entrusted him with too much of herself for him not to respond.

"Ren…thank you for telling me all of that." His words came slowly, every one the product of careful consideration. "I'm sure it wasn't easy for you to do so. I can't imagine what it must have been like, going so long without hearing anything from Hangetsu…and then to see his apartment like that…" He sighed. Wanting to make others feel better was easy; actually doing it was another matter entirely. "Honestly, I'm not sure I've ever felt anything like that. So…what do you need? How can I help you feel better? How can I help you move on, if that's what you want to do?"

Ren exhaled when Johar jumped up to fetch the tea. It had been just as harrowing now as it was telling Hangetsu about herself two years ago. She supposed it would always be harrowing; people were unpredictable, and even a trusted friend could fail to understand the importance of her journey. It was always a risk she ran, no matter how accepting her surroundings were, as there was no accounting for individual response.

She accepted the tea gratefully, then unwrapped the moon cakes. An intricate design had been stamped into the dough, the egg wash giving the cake a glossy golden brown finish. The label said the cakes were a mix between red bean paste and lotus seed paste. Quite frankly, Ren enjoyed both, but she reached for a lotus seed one first.

As Johar asked what he could do, she slipped off her glasses and wiped them carefully on the long sleeve of her robe. "I appreciate the thought," she said, her husky voice even moreso from emotion. "But I think that just having someone to talk to is more than enough." She looked around the little apartment. It had, somehow, felt more like home than her room at Air Temple Island ever did. She knew though, she would eventually have to leave it behind. Being an acolyte meant giving up material possession. It was what she had struggled with the most.

"Eventually, I will return to Air Temple Island. Maybe not now, but soon. My ability to leave the island will be limited once I return to my duties, but I do have days off and we are allowed visitors. I... I would appreciate it if you could continue to associate with me when I return."

She paused, thinking about the other part of his question.

"I do want to move on, I think." She looked down at the photograph. "I don't know if Hangetsu is alive or dead, but I do know that whatever the case, the chances of him being involved in my life now are so miniscule it's not even worth acknowledging. But I don't know how to move on. I never knew my grandparents, my parents are still alive, and the most alive thing I've ever lost are my succulents." Ren laughed a little, sniffling. "How does one go from planning your future to ... not? I think that's something I may need to discover on my own."

The mooncake was good. Ren savoured the flavour for a few moments before swallowing, and sipped her tea to wash it down. The combination was exquisite, and she smiled at Johar.

"This might be a weird question, but do you think it would be okay if I brought Han-- Hangetsu's family altar here? I ... I can't bear the thought of it gathering dust indefinitely, and the spirit might become restless."    

Johar glanced at Ren as she unwrapped the moon cakes. She wasn't the picture of despair, but she didn't look full of joy either. It was understandable, of course, but he hoped he'd find some way to lift her spirits. While he waited for her to answer his question, he considered his two moon cake options. He'd never been too fond of the flavor of lotus seed, and so reached for one of the red bean cakes. The first bite was all he needed to know he'd made the right choice.

When Ren's answer came, it was not as direct as he had hoped. Of course he would visit her. Of course he would be there to talk whenever she needed him; that was what friends were for. But would that really be enough to patch the gaping hole in her heart? There was no way of knowing, and pushing the issue would do him no good. So he nodded with a smile. "I'd be happy to visit you whenever you have free time," he told her. "My tea shop isn't exactly the most popular in the city; I should easily be able to find time to come see you."

Johar sipped his tea as Ren considered her thoughts, relishing the warmth that flowed through him. After his trek through seemingly endless snowfall to get to Ren's apartment, this was a welcome change. That would be one benefit of Ren eventually moving back onto Air Temple Island: a much shorter journey.

It didn't take Ren long to resume speaking. Again, Johar heard in her voice how much Hangetsu still meant to her. He must have been a great guy. He had no idea what it felt like to have someone who meant that much, only to lose them. He understood, then, why Ren hadn't wanted to accept that Hangetsu was gone. She'd been living the past year away from the place and people she called home, awaiting word from the most important person in her life—word that never came. He was honestly impressed that she had been able to carry on for the past year.

He wasn't sure how to answer Ren's question about Hangetsu's altar. Restless spirit aside, was it right of her to remove something from Hangetsu's home, even if it did seem pretty clear that he had abandoned the place? If he did return, and the altar was gone…

"I…guess that would probably be okay," he finally replied with a small shrug. "I mean, it's better for it to be somewhere it'll be cared for, right? And if Hangetsu is still alive and wants the altar back, it'll be in good hands. I can't imagine it would upset him to know that you were looking after his grandfather's spirit."

Ren nibbled at her mooncake, thinking. "Maybe I can leave word with Lemurland that I've taken it for safekeeping. I mean..."  She stared at the raised emblem on the top of the half-eaten cake, absent-mindedly rubbing the design with her index finger. "It's been a while. Maybe after renovations are complete they'll have to re-rent his room out to someone else. You know?"

She heaved a deep sigh, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "I don't know. I feel... lost. It's not that Hangetsu made my life worth living, but he made it better."

Polishing off her mooncake, Ren reached for a red bean-filled one. The sweetness was a little much after the relative mildness of the lotus seed, and she took a sip of tea to cleanse her palette.

"Thanks, by the way," she said suddenly. "You didn't have to come all the way out here to check on me, and you did anyway. So... thank you. For — for caring."

Johar sipped his tea as Ren considered her options. It was admirable, really, that she was able to think so logically about all of this. He couldn't imagine how difficult this situation was for her to navigate, but somehow she managed. "That sounds like a good idea," he agreed to Ren's point of leaving word with Lemurland. "Might as well keep them informed."

To her point about feeling lost, Johar wasn't sure what to say. He took a moment to think, finishing his mooncake and wiping crumbs from his lips before speaking. "I doubt anyone else can fill that exact same role in your life," he began, "But surrounding yourself with other people who make you happy can only be a good thing. I know I'll do what I can." He smiled at Ren.

Ren's thanks caught Johar off guard. He blinked at her for a moment. Then she elaborated, and his smile grew. "Of course; that's what friends are for." He sat in silence for a moment. Then, he sat up straighter and spoke again. "You know, Ren, we've spent a few days together now, but I realize that we really don't know all that much about each other. We should fix that." He tapped his chin. "So, let's start with something simple: what's your favorite color?"

Ren blinked, then after a split second, laughed.

"I suppose we have gone about this incredibly backwards," she said with a smile. "You know all the sad details of my life, but don't really know a thing about me."

She sipped her tea, nestling under the warmth of the kotetsu. "Well, let's see. I don't think I have a favourite colour, but I am partial to dark and desaturated colours. When my hair went grey — a shocking thing, for me at the time, but apparently it happened to my mother's mother as well — people complimented me more when I work dark and desaturated colours. I guess it goes well."

Taking another bite out of her red bean mooncake, Ren waved her hand in Johar's direction. "Your turn. Any brothers and sisters?"

It was so good to hear Ren laugh. Johar was glad he would be able to picture her that way, instead of wracked with despair, as he had last seen her. He hoped, though, that she didn't think his question was too silly. Sure, knowing her favorite color wouldn't really bring them closer as friends, but it was a place to start, and as far removed from her personal tragedy as he could think to get.

Luckily, Ren didn't take the opportunity to mock him for his question choice. Rather, she gave a much more detailed answer than he had expected. Of course, he noted that she didn't give an exact answer to his question, but her reasoning was more than sufficient to make up for it. He smiled at Ren's mention of her hair. His mother had gone grey early in her life as well. Where Ren seemed to have made peace with it though, his mother had not. Every time she'd gone out shopping, she'd come back with a container of dye, desperate to cling to the black hair of her younger days. It was funny, what people chose to hold on to.

Johar reached for another mooncake as Ren asked her question. This time, he selected a lotus cake, nibbling at it with some hesitation. Surprisingly, it wasn't as unpleasant as he'd expected it to be. In fact, it went pretty well with the lychee tea. He'd have to remember that. He swallowed, then focused on what Ren had asked him. The question made him smile. "I have four siblings," he replied, holding up one hand with his fingers up. He used his other hand to tick them off. "Ami's the oldest. Then Li. I'm in the middle. Then Cho. Lastly is Ken. My parents said they always planned to have as many children as possible so that our family's farm would be looked after when they got too old to work." He chuckled at the memory of his mother explaining her strange philosophy.

Then it was his turn to think of another question. He rested his chin on his hand, looking at Ren. "Hmm…doesn't look like you have any pets…would you ever want any? And if so, what would you want?"

"Four siblings!" Ren put her hand on her chest. "My goodness, how on earth does your poor mother keep up?" She laughed, thanking the spirits silently that Johar didn't ask her the same question; no need for more sadness now.

She sipped her tea thoughtfully as she contemplated the question he had asked. "A pet.. a pet... It's hard to say honestly. It would need to be hardy enough to be able to withstand the air bison at the temple. I love cats, but cats can be so... skittish, you know? Perhaps something smaller, like a snake. The kind with the little upturned snouts."

Snakes may have been an unusual choice, but she always loved the non-aggressive ones. They were small little danger noodles with the cutest little mouths and eyes like black pearls. Her mother was always horrified that she'd want such a thing in their home.

Wiping her mouth daintily, she asked another question: "If you had to choose a different profession, what would you do?"

Johar laughed at Ren's reaction to his answer. "It's not too bad, I don't think," he said. "Most of us are old enough to take care of ourselves. Ken's the only pretty young one, and he's got the other three to look after him. My parents focus more on the farm."

He munched his mooncake as Ren considered his question about pets. He'd put a lot of thought into the question himself recently. He'd been thinking of getting a pet, but couldn't figure out what would be best. Working on his parent's farm made him familiar with the various animals they kept, but keeping a moo-sow in his small shop was just not practical. Besides, he'd left home to get away from the farm, see what else the world had to offer.

"Snakes?" Johar scratched his chin as he thought. "Never thought of owning a snake before. To be honest, they kind of creep me out." He grinned sheepishly. "I've thought of maybe getting a cat owl, but I'm not sure if I'd have enough space for one." He shrugged. "I'll give it some more thought."

He sipped his tea, but as Ren asked her next question, he set the cup down to give her words his full attention. "I…don't know…" he said, slowly. "I mean, I like owning this shop, but healing's really what I love doing. So I suppose if I ever sold the shop, I'd try to pursue healing full-time. But besides that…I guess I might like to try working for the Republic City Times. I've always loved hearing other people's stories. Being able to go around the city and collect stories and share them with the whole city…I think that would be nice."

Now it was his turn to think of another question. Her question had been a difficult one to answer, so it took him a moment to think of one of his own. "What sort of music do you like?"

OOC: PM incoming about the music I'm referring to

Ren reddened. "Don't judge me," she said, with the tone of someone who was frequently judged for what she was about to say, "but I don't listen to music."

She put her face to her hands, laughing sheepishly, her eyes partially hidden by her fingers. "I mean, I don't dislike music! But I find it so distracting, when I'm reading or writing. It's far simpler just to not. Sometimes, during meditation, someone will play an ocarina or a stringed instrument, but I can't concentrate on keeping my mind blank when something is trilling in the background."

Absently, the woman twisted a lock of her long grey hair around her index finger. "If I had to choose, however, I think I'd say that 'big band' music that they play in clubs. You know, the full orchestra, brass and string instruments, mixed with classical instruments, and a singer of some sort. It's always so dance-y and upbeat." She snapped her fingers to some phantom tune, smiling a little sadly at her last memories of such music.

Her small carriage clock dinged to indicate than an hour or so had passed since Johar's arrival, and Ren looked up at it guiltily. "My goodness, how time flies," she murmured. "Do you have to be anywhere today?" she asked her friend. "I know it's the New Year."

She really hoped that Johar would say he could say. She hadn't realised how lonely she had been the past few days, and Johar's presence was like an invisible shield, buffeting away the cloud of depression that had hung over her for weeks.

Johar's eyebrows rose as Ren visibly reddened. She was immediately on the defensive too. He was confused. He'd just asked what kind of music she liked. That wasn't usually a deeply personal question—at least not in his experience. So why, then, was Ren reacting like he'd asked her about something serious?

Then she continued, and he laughed. He tried not to, but some escaped him. It was strange, he had to admit, to meet someone who didn't listen to music. Sure, he hadn't expected her to say she had something playing all day and all night, but most people at least listened to enough music to have an easy answer to that question. But then, Ren brought up meditation, something with which he had little experience. "I suppose it would be hard to concentrate on something so intense with outside noise pushing its way into your head," he allowed. Still, did she not listen to music at all?

He was relieved when Ren did have an answer to his question after all. "I'm not terribly familiar with 'big band' music," he said. "I don't go to clubs much…or at all, really." Now it was his turn to look sheepish. "I don't have anyone to go to clubs with, and anyway, crowds make me nervous—the noisy kind especially. But if you like it, I'll give it a try. It must be good if it pleases someone who prefers not to listen to music."

Suddenly there was the high ding of a clock chime, and with the noise came to Johar the realization that he'd already been at Ren's for an hour now. He hadn't noticed how the time had flown by. Such was the way of things when engrossed in pleasant conversation. He shook his head when Ren asked if he had plans. "No, I don't have to be anywhere," he told her, smiling. "I figured if I was going to make the journey out here, I might as well do it on a day I had completely free. But—" He held up his hands. "If you have somewhere you need to be, or if you just want me to leave, you can say so. I don't want to overstay my welcome."

The woman waved her hands and shook her head. "Oh, no, no! I just thought you might have something better to do than spend the Lunar festivities with a sad little woman." She laughed softly.

"I don't have much in the house in terms of food," Ren added, slightly embarrassed, "so we can't really do a traditional style meal. But I do have some of those deluxe Flameo lunch boxes we could warm up. There's also a drama on the radio today, I think. And I do have some stuff to make mochi, if you like that."

It was such a meagre offering. Part of her wondered how the rest of the acolytes were spending the new year. Air Nomad confectionaries probably were in great supply, and Ren's mouth watered at the thought.

"It's not very glamorous, I know, but if I'd love to ring in the year with you."

Johar's smile faded when Ren called herself a 'sad little woman.' "Don't say that," he chided gently, trying to keep his tone light buts still make his point. "The whole point of my being here is to help make you less sad, remember? And…" He held up a hand to indicate the height difference between them, which was apparent even while seated. "I wouldn't exactly call you little."

Ren listed off the food she had on offer, and Johar wondered again if he was imposing on her kindness, if she wasn't just too nice to say so. "I don't want to eat you out of house and home," he replied. "And seeing as we're in your home, I'd say it's up to you how we ring in the year." His eyes shone as he remembered something Ren had just mentioned. "But…I've never made mocha before. Eaten it of course, but…I would like to try that, if you don't mind."

She had to laugh. "You have me there," she agreed, noting that she could see well over Johar's head without effort.

When he protested eating her 'out of house and home', Ren shook her head with a smile. "Don't worry, I'll be fine. Truth be told, I've just been... a little remiss in grocery shopping the last couple of weeks. There's enough for tonight and tomorrow, and then when the shops open again on the day after I'll buy some fresh food. I'm just a little embarrassed to serve Flameo on New Year's."

Extracting herself from under the kotetsu, she pulled down two large Flameo meals. "I've got shrimp, and... oh, haha, chicken." Would it be inauspicious to eat chicken when ushering in the Year of the Rooster? She dismissed the thought; surely the spirits wouldn't mind, considering her options. She set a kettle full of water on the stove to boil, so that they could pour them over the noodles.

Getting on her hands and knees, Ren opened a lower cabinet and dug around until she emerged with stone mortar and wooden mallet. She set these on the counter, then pulled out a pot full of pre-steamed, sticky, glutinous rice.

She motioned for Johar to come over. When he was standing next to her, she pointed at the mallet. "The kine," she said. "We use this to pound the sticky rice together."

Then, she pointed at the mortar. "The usu. The rice goes into the usu; one of use will pound the rice with the kine, then the other will gather the rice together into a ball to be pounded again. We repeat this until the rice turns into the smooth, sticky, stretchy mochi we all know and love. Then we can eat it as is, or roll them up into balls. We should probably save this for after we eat our noodles though."

Ren paused, then added, an apologetic smile on her lips: "Erm. It might be better if I'm the one that uses the kine, if you've never made mochi before."