He likes having something to occupy his hands with that doesn't seem fidgety. He'd brought the bread, anyway, he can't criticize Zuko for flicking crumbs into the pond.

"Why does everyone with a tea fixation tell me to meditate?" he says in a tone of adolescent complaint, but there's some faint trace of self-conscious humor, too. "You sound like my uncle." That, of course, is far from an insult no matter how long-suffering Zuko sounds as he says it.

"But that's all I've been doing while we were stuck on the ship. I'd rather fight someone. You'd think the Avatar would at least come to this so I could take it out on him." It's not Aang's fault that he's in high demand and couldn't make it, but Zuko has to admit, if only to himself, that he misses the friendly, irrepressible face sometimes. He's still highly annoying, but they know where they stand with each other and he's not just a firm, pivotal ally, but at Aang's insistence he's a friend. Zuko doesn't have many of those, especially not now in his position.