I thought you were-- . . . [It's a retort, but she cuts herself off.] Never mind.

[Meanwhile, Aang seems to have pulled the water off her in the fanciest way possible -- into a sphere of ice that echoes into her brain as it bounces solidly to the ground. (That kid never could do anything straightforward -- always had to add some twist to it.) She sneezes again, burrowing, looping a fold of blanket over her head. There's way too much insanity going on. Right now she really, really wants to burrow into bed and try to block it out for a few minutes.]

[The warmth from Aang's bending, though, begins to spread through her, and her muscles start to ease, welcoming the heat.]

Thanks. [The word itself is warm, and grateful. Warmth. She will never leave it again.]

[Which means, as far as Sokka's comment:] I'm not walking around out there. Already tried it. Not happening.

[Which leaves how she's going to get to the hotel a mystery, but. Never leaving warmth again, remember?]

[Muttered,] Just come get me when it's spring or something.