[ Raskolnikov isn’t entirely an idiot. The boy is speaking with strange emphases that are clearly trying to convey a message, and the determination to make this seem like a dream…for whatever reason, he doesn’t want to acknowledge the fact that something incredibly strange just happened. (That body hadn’t been his, and everything feels wrong, and he wants to lie down and never get up.) ]

You’re right, [ he tells Sokka slowly, looking around to make sure nobody had been listening to their conversation. ] A dream, of course, just a dream. I don’t know what I was saying.

[ He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ] The…move here has left me tired. Because I’ve just moved here. It seems that a lot of people have, from various places. [ The unspoken question: are you one of us? ]