"Well technically," says Sokka, "we don't have a table, so it's not exactly table manners anyway."
Toph belches, finishes picking her teeth, and tosses the bone into the fire. “I could make one if y'like,” she says.
Opposite, Katara glares at them both. “Sokka, don't encourage her. Toph, I know you know better. Can't you at least try?”
“Katara,” says Aang tentatively, “is it really that big a deal?”
–- Their voices rise. At the edge of the clearing, Momo chitters quietly and fastidiously wipes down his ears. Appa methodically inhales another mouthful of tree.
(Och crivens, mutter the bushes, not the tappin' o' the feets...)