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Curiously, one of the Sensoriums is running, but somebody's left the door propped open.

More curiously, perhaps, is that peeking in doesn't reveal a virtual world - rather, a short hallway, all made of paneled wood. Doors to the sides lead to bathrooms and showers and locker rooms, all warm and comfortable and stocked with all the essentials (and plenty of towels). At the very end of the hall, should someone open the door there, is revealed... a rather large, and very relaxing-looking, combination of sauna and indoor hot springs.

Wednesday's in there, stretched out on his back on one of the wooden benches—in a faint nod to modesty, a fluffy towel is laid out across his crotch and thighs, but otherwise he's nude. The guy's age means he's a bit worked over, certainly, but to a discerning eye that can see past the slight flab and the marks of age, he's still in surprisingly good shape...

Care to come in and relax?

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Nathan stepped in, likely thinking to do some flying over Texas skies. Just for the hell of it, but the sauna was a surprise. Well hell, relaxing in this looked promising too, so he stripped down to a towel.

"Nice to meet you," Wednesday says as Nathan enters, though his eyes are closed. (He must have heard the door open...)

"Yeah, like what you did with the place," Nathan remarked with a grin.

"It's nice to feel appreciated for once," Wednesday says pleasantly, though there's a bit of a grumble in there.

"Yeah know the feeling," he agreed. Thinking of everything's he's done for his brother.

Saunas are a staple of Zuko's world. And while he would absolutely prefer that the old men he shares them with be more clothed . . . immodest, aged men are hardly something he's not used to.

Speaking of Uncle, Zuko thinks as he stands, vaguely awkwardly in the doorway. What would Iroh do in this situation? Relax and make friends, most likely. And Zuko's seen enough of Wednesday in action (fighting, people! Fighting!) to be pretty sure that this is one crewmate he'd rather be on good terms with.

He bows stiffly and formally. "I apologize. I didn't mean to intrude. If it's no trouble, may I join you?"

"Of course, m'boy," Wednesday says, stretching a little - his eyes are closed. "But if you're going to do that, you should probably go get a towel first. There's some tradition with this kind of thing, you know."

His tone is a little condescending, maybe, but there's also that fatherly quality to it—not as nice as Iroh, but they'd quite possibly get along with each other, were the other man here...

Of course they would. Iroh gets along with everyone - even people he doesn't like. Not that Iroh would dislike Mr. Wednesday, as far as Zuko knows.

"I know how these things work," Zuko grumbles as he strips out of his plantsuit. Modesty, what modesty? After the public baths of Ba Sing Se, there's no bathing-based indignity he can't handle.

"You'll have to excuse an old man his presumptions," Wednesday says, with just a flickering flame of an apology buried in there.

As far as Zuko knows, certainly—it's probably a good thing there are so many little things he doesn't know about Wednesday. His past isn't just checkered, it's positively painted black...

The list of commonalities gets longer. (Well, no, Iroh's past would be much more checkered than solid.)

"It's no trouble," Zuko responds. "This is a nice bathhouse. Nicer than many of the ones I visited in the past." He reaches for a towel before stretching out on a wooden bed of his own. Uncle would be proud of him, relaxing and socializing and all.

"Mmmn. I cobbled it together out of memories of a few places I've visited. Few were quite a mish-mash, but in here I don't have to worry about realistic humidity levels..."

Thinking about, it's pretty strange that the mix of areas has managed to stay comfortable without getting too hot (with the springs) or too cold (with the sauna).

"That is a bonus," Zuko agrees. He likes the heat himself, so the baths at Ba Sing Se were never quite warm enough for him. This? This is perfect, though.

"Your world seems nice," he adds, still trying his very best to be both conversational and polite.

"It's... bearable, I suppose. My world's been changing for a long time, and it's been getting less and less survivable for people like me. I may have been lucky to get here at all." One hand raises to gesture vaguely.

Wednesday lets out a soft sigh. His face seems more forlornly creased than it was before...

"People like you . . . ?"

Zuko leans up to glance at Wednesday. "I thought you might be some sort of spirit -"

"And what made you think that?" the old man asks, though his tone is more dry and weary than denying.

"Because -" Zuko balks. He's not his Uncle. He hasn't spoken to spirits before.

". . . because the only old man I know who's as much more-than-what-he-seems as you is my uncle. And he really only got that way after his journey to the world of spirits."

"Mmn? Sounds like a wise man—to have come back, I mean. Most who manage to visit us get caught up in one thing or another."

With a grunt, he shifts upwards to a sitting position, pulling his towel lightly around him so he can shuffle over and dump more water on the nearby coals.

"He is." Zuko's voice is suddenly convicted. "Wise, I mean. More than I ever gave him credit for."

And then he just sounds sad.

"I never really asked about his trip. Otherwise I guess I'd know how to be properly respectful to spirits."

Wednesday lets out a snort. "The same way as everyone else—or you're dealing with someone who's enough of a bastard that it probably doesn't matter whether or not you stick to his imaginary rules."

He sits on the bench he was laying on, one hand reaching around to scratch at his back.

Zuko starts to protest - but wait, is he going to contradict a spirit on whether or not spirits have rules? No, that would be dumb.

"Well, he did try to teach me to respect everyone." Even peasants. Which has come in useful on the ship!

"And that's the smart way to be, because you never know when that old man who shows up on your doorstep—" He gestures vaguely. "I did quite a spate of the ol' visit-and-curse myself when I was younger."

Zuko laughs at that.

"I'm glad you're not one of my spirits, then. I'd be in trouble if you'd visited me, say, two months ago."

Wednesday waves a hand dismissively. "I'm too wise to waste power on that kind of thing, these days. You might have been in trouble if you were around an age or two ago..." His tone leaves quite what an 'age' is unclear.

"I don't think I was alive then."

Past incarnations? Maybe.

"What are . . ." Zuko pauses, as he phrases his thoughts. "I've never met a spirit before. That I knew of. What do you . . . do, I guess?"

"If I asked you 'what do you do'," Wednesday says, moving to stretch out on the wooden 'bed' again, arms pulled up behind his head, "how would you answer?" He seems a bit honestly curious.

Give him a minute. The boy thrives on purpose.

"Until now, I served my father, the Fire Lord. I traveled the world, searching for someone who could stop him from taking over the whole world. I ordered my crew around and trained in firebending with my uncle - and when my father ordered for my arrest -" he clenches his fists, thinking of the time he spent in exile, still wishing desperately to reclaim the love of the man who sent him to it. "I kept searching for the Avatar."

"I'm still looking for the Avatar. But now, I'm looking for him because I've realized that my place isn't at my father's side, and the Four Nations aren't meant to be ruled by only one. Now I look for the Avatar so that I can teach him firebending, help him restore peace to the Four Nations, and reclaim my honor. Not in my father's eyes, but in my own."

He hasn't had a typical life, so it's an easy question to answer.

"Well, well..." Wednesday brightens up a bit at the story, visibly straightening. "A real, honest-to-good personal quest. It's been such a long time since I've seen one of those meant in earnest. —Not that I quite understood some your terms, but..."

One of his hands goes up to his face, his right eye—a little squeeze, and pop, and the glass eye (a spiderweb of cracks along the hidden back side) is held between his fingers, the empty socket closed. "I gave my eye for wisdom. That was a long, long time ago, but..." He shrugs lightly. "Most of my children are dead by now. I haven't had much to live for but myself... and my brother, sometimes, but he's a right bastard and we hardly get along."

"Mai and I are the only ones here from our world." Zuko has sat up on his bench, towel draped across his lap. He sits with his elbows on his thighs, fingers laced together. "I guess it's pretty . . . singular. Everyone else seems to be from more or less the same world -"

He peers at the eye, a little revolted, but hiding it well with fascination. His expression turns solemn, though, as Wednesday mentions his kids, and Zuko looks at his feet again. "I'm sorry. About your children."

He pauses before going on.

"My father never cared about me much -" his hands tighten again - "but my uncle cared for me as if I was his own son, after his son died in battle. He even went into exile with me when I was banished." He laces his fingers together more tightly. "And I wasn't a very good replacement son. It . . ." he lets out a quick sigh before going on. "It must be really hard, going on when your only family left does not love or respect you."

Wednesday pops the glass eye back in, blinking a few times to get it properly reseated. "Sorry...? No, no, m'boy, don't be." He smiles a little. "Most of them were idiots enough that I'm probably better off without them. My only son who was ever any good for anything, he was the one who killed me before..." He gestures in a vague, broad circle. Still, there's something a little pained in his eyes, enough to suggest that he might be exaggerating about the worth of his family members...

His eyebrows raise at what seems like a self-confession as much as anything. "That sounds like the sort of thing your uncle might like to hear, the next time you see him."

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