Sokka the careful master.

"Azula! I have a question for you. You will answer me honestly." Sokka spoke with the authoritative tone he used to command warriors in the battlefield. Azula seemed to respond better when he took it seriously.

"Yes, Mighty Sokka. I will." She shook her head again but otherwise said nothing.

"Based on your personal response to the gas, how likely are you to break free of my control? Be generously forthcoming with your answer."

She quivered. "I'd say I will shrug off the remaining effects within five minutes, but I am struggling to remind myself that you are my enemy."

That was interesting. "Elaborate on that. Quickly."

"You are the Mighty Sokka." She shook her head as if to clear it. "I want to admire you. To marvel at your greatness. To submit to you. My body..." She squirmed in a very unintimidating manner, like a horny slut, "...wants you. I love feeling small and helpless before you. This is very new for me."

She took a deep breath and steeled herself. "No! You are trash. I will kill you as soon as I am able. I will **** everyone you care for. I will personally oversee their unending torment! I hate you."

Sokka ignored her psychotic outburst. He tapped his chin, grinning. "Oh reeeealy?" He wasn't blind. Azula's body was virtually flawless. Athletic, lithe, and deadly. A perfectly honed instrument. She was almost beautiful as she spoke so softly to him. There was a vulnerability there that Azula never possessed normally.

But the bitch was crazy. A total psychopath. Sokka had never been remotely interested in all that. But now here was a previously unimaginable possibility. He could fix the one ugly part of the woman. He could cure her mind and make her into something actually worthwhile.

"Now tell me, woman, and be quick about it. Is there any way to strengthen this mind control? Make broader changes to you, perhaps even render the effects... permanent?"

Azule whined pitifully at the question.