He listened. He managed to keep most of his own emotions off his face for most of that, other than interested politeness. But it was harder, so much harder at the mention of the lullaby. He did it, but not with ease.

But for all he didn't show the deep emotions, they did colour how he internalized the rest of what he listened to. How he thought about it. When Zuko asked his questions he nodded. "There is no just about passion, Zuko," he said. Where his face was its usual polite and loving self his voice... ah his voice. It was slightly thickened by emotion. "There is no just about any emotion, any drive. It is what we each make of it, and it can be as small and personal as your own heart - itself no small thing - or it can be as bright and fiery as the sun at noon in summer. Passion is individual. It is the flame or flames within us. But with all flames we must nurture it. And we were trained to nurture only the flames of war. We had to learn elsewhere that there were other flames as well."