Sandboxing in the Sandbox

Laughing, Sokka holds out his arm, shaking his wrist until the sleeve of his parka falls back to reveal a sort of bracelet, with three little ticking arms in a round face. "It tells time," he explains, patting her shoulder gently. "I've made a few and Iroh, I think, was having them mass-produced, but no one is much interested in them. I like to have it, though."

It's comforting, knowing how much time he's spent in one place, being happy.