With a haughty huff, Luke led the way, his hair streaming behind him with a distinct cleft in the middle where Tenzin's beak had shorn him. His shoulders were tense, chin up--if anyone stopped to laugh they were greeted with a nasty glare. No one could accuse Luke fon Fabre of lacking self-assurance.

He enjoyed the breath of cooled air as they hit the center, dropping Zorua's pokeball on the counter and daring the nurse to make a comment about his hair. Unperturbed, Joy stifled her giggles behind her palm and took his pokemon away for treatment.

While her back was turned, he discreetly bent forward over the counter, swiping an elastic band from the various knick-knacks scattered there. It wasn't a hair band, but it would do; he ducked his head upside-down, gathering the red mess into a ponytail. He felt much better now that it was up, the rip less apparent. He turned to Korra again, his own style now mimicking hers.

"C'mon, they won't be done here for a while, so let's go."