Azula wasn't so sure, and she was sure her guest could feel those doubts lingering. "You'll forgive me if I'm not as optimistic as you are about it." At least having something to focus on, namely the problem at hand was keeping the noise down in her mind. She begrudgingly moved over to her bag to pull out one of the few articles of clothing she owned. She had commissioned the tailor to make her some comfortable functional clothes, but her state of mind was the deciding factor on if she wore them.

"This has got to be a trick of sorts, or some kind of curse." The way she seethed the word "curse" made it apparent just how much this situation was digging at her, as if Nima couldn't feel it eating away at Azula's patience like a worm.

"I've worked too hard not to kill every last one of you to be punished like this." She was growling at a broken mirror as she attempted pitifully to put her hair into an elegant bun. She wasn't nearly focused enough for such work. Every other minute she felt compelled to claw at her own head as she had so many times before. Nima may even see some remaining scars along her hairline from what Azula thought of as "bad days".