[ Edward stills after depositing a shovelful of snow onto the sled, casting Sokka a sideways glance. He's an easy presence to acclimate to, humorous and more difficult to read danger onto than many of the other hostages. This is the first he's left to wonder if that affable nature is obfuscating some unease beyond what they're all sharing. He wonders if he's ever accidentally caused offense, if Sokka is being treated well in what is basically a foster home—

And then the remark about the hair, drawing the tension from his shoulders. He doesn't laugh, but he smiles, huffing through his nose. Funny. ]

I doubt it's you. [ No great comfort, he knows, but to not explicitly disagree would feel to him like being complicit. Another shovel's worth of snow, and he pivots again toward the sled. ] I think it's... a very easy time to be tense. Very easy to worry about learning new rules and abiding them. I suppose anyone asking for anything with your kind of energy could come across as some test.

[ A beat. ]

The hair is interesting, though. You aren't cold? You can lose a lot of heat through your head.