"Okay, Zuko, give me your knife," Sokka ordered as he eyed Jet's flashy new car. No way no delinquent asshole was taking his sister to the prom. And since reasoned debate with Katara hadn't worked, he'd go with sabotage.

"... I don't have a knife."

"Seriously, what kind of leather jacket wearing bad boy are you?!"

Zuko hunched deeper into his jacket and muttered, "One who doesn't get his skin peeled off if he takes a tumble from his motorcycle."