[Up until now, no one has asked Sokka that question. It hasn't bothered him; in his opinion, the less that the locals talk to him, the better, and when it comes to the new arrivals, Sokka hasn't been all that forthcoming, anyway. There's a lot that he's trying to protect back home, and he feels as though mentioning anything about the South Pole, the Four Nations, or his real family and friends might draw too much attention to them. It's easier to shuffle from house to house letting people think he's strange, or that his watchtower is childish, or that it's not worth asking him any questions. He's used to people assuming he's not all that bright as it is; this time, it at least seems to work toward his advantage, because he's more or less left alone.
Only when the question is actually posed does Sokka realize, with an internal start, that he's wanted someone to ask — to take even a passing interest in what he's doing, because it is personal to him. The watchtower will be (temporarily) useful, sure, but that's not all it represents to Sokka. It's a reminder of home — a small way of expressing something that has been continuously denied to him, even before he arrived here, with how long he spent in Fire Nation territory.
This man doesn't sound like a local, and Sokka is drawn to that. He himself fits in surprisingly well when it comes to his accent, but has other features that mark him as other. He refuses to compromise on his hair, for example, even though it'd probably make his life a little easier if he would — and even though he did once before. It's different here, without his sister and without any possessions other than his boomerang to remind him of home. This is one of the only ways in which he can express himself — as a warrior, as a member of the Southern Water Tribe, and as his father's son. Hence, the defining characteristics that might make the neighbors suspicious of some of the new arrivals establishes what Sokka considers to be some form of common ground.
And that's why he doesn't answer with sarcasm, or a quip, or even a simple explanation. He says:]
Watch. [And, flattens the snow on the guy's mailbox, quickly patting it down with his hand. Equally as quickly, he carves through the snow with a mitten-covered finger to create a small version of a wall. Then he scoops up snow from the ground to create a slender mound that towers above the rest. It isn't the best model of a watchtower given the speed at which he's created it, and also, the fact that it's resting on a mailbox, but Sokka tops it off by pulling a button off of his coat (he still hates everything about the clothes here, but this is for the sake of art) and setting it atop the tower.] That's me. [He then points to the mini-tower.] And that's a watchtower. [He then pokes holes in the flattened snow, each divot meant to represent houses that the watchtower stands above. If he had more time, he'd go all out by creating evil little salesmen, too, but restrains himself and simply adds:] You can do a lot with snow.
[If you ask him, everyone who's just shoveling it away is missing opportunities, but that means more snow for him.]
hyped!
Only when the question is actually posed does Sokka realize, with an internal start, that he's wanted someone to ask — to take even a passing interest in what he's doing, because it is personal to him. The watchtower will be (temporarily) useful, sure, but that's not all it represents to Sokka. It's a reminder of home — a small way of expressing something that has been continuously denied to him, even before he arrived here, with how long he spent in Fire Nation territory.
This man doesn't sound like a local, and Sokka is drawn to that. He himself fits in surprisingly well when it comes to his accent, but has other features that mark him as other. He refuses to compromise on his hair, for example, even though it'd probably make his life a little easier if he would — and even though he did once before. It's different here, without his sister and without any possessions other than his boomerang to remind him of home. This is one of the only ways in which he can express himself — as a warrior, as a member of the Southern Water Tribe, and as his father's son. Hence, the defining characteristics that might make the neighbors suspicious of some of the new arrivals establishes what Sokka considers to be some form of common ground.
And that's why he doesn't answer with sarcasm, or a quip, or even a simple explanation. He says:]
Watch. [And, flattens the snow on the guy's mailbox, quickly patting it down with his hand. Equally as quickly, he carves through the snow with a mitten-covered finger to create a small version of a wall. Then he scoops up snow from the ground to create a slender mound that towers above the rest. It isn't the best model of a watchtower given the speed at which he's created it, and also, the fact that it's resting on a mailbox, but Sokka tops it off by pulling a button off of his coat (he still hates everything about the clothes here, but this is for the sake of art) and setting it atop the tower.] That's me. [He then points to the mini-tower.] And that's a watchtower. [He then pokes holes in the flattened snow, each divot meant to represent houses that the watchtower stands above. If he had more time, he'd go all out by creating evil little salesmen, too, but restrains himself and simply adds:] You can do a lot with snow.
[If you ask him, everyone who's just shoveling it away is missing opportunities, but that means more snow for him.]