[The subtext is indeed lost on Sokka, just like the concept of a "fridge," but he is at least getting accustomed to hearing stuff that doesn't make complete sense to him, so he's able to take care not to look confused in response. The suggestion to sit is much more straightforward, though Sokka isn't sure he wants to go that far. On the one hand, he isn't trying to turn this into a hostile situation, even if he won't put his boomerang away; on the other, he wants to be ready if anything happens. But the guy has agreed to show him the supplies, and he isn't pushing Sokka to stay — so, fine. He sits, and though he keeps his boomerang in hand, he relaxes enough to drape that hand on the counter.
Up until now, Sokka has been trying to explain this strange place in terms of the world he knows. The man in front of him, wearing those colors and bearing a war wound, must somehow be related to the Fire Nation; the word "fridge," which Sokka can now attach to a concept as he assumes that's the first place the man checks for supplies, and other unusual objects could be the product of Fire Nation innovation. There's a lot that they've revealed throughout the course of the war that no one realized they had developed. It's possible all this falls under that umbrella.
But the food changes everything. As soon as Sokka sees the variety, the boxes and cartons, the prepackaged items and cans, the word milk on something that definitely doesn't look like it holds milk — he realizes he was wrong. The Fire Nation may have developed a lot of war contraptions without anyone knowing, but there's no way they would have changed the way they feed their people in such a short period of time. Sokka was just there; he didn't see anything like this in Fire Nation borders.
He picks up the can opener with his free hand. It isn't a weapon, given that it's bladed in a less-than-practical way. He holds it as he might a dagger as he studies it, trying to discern what it might be used for. It looks like it could be a shucking tool, so maybe it's made to pry metal open. He could grab whatever he can carry and go — he should. But there's winging it and then there's being downright stupid and now — Sokka isn't sure which side of the line he's straddling.]
Where are you from?
[He's more subdued now, the tension draining from him as he tries to come up with a way to learn as much as possible about this place without putting himself at a disadvantage. Part of that means reconsidering his initial impression. This guy is too comfortable here, like he understands how everything works. Maybe he did wake up here confused just like Sokka. Or maybe Sokka's paranoia is correct and this is all some kind of twisted trick. Either way, he now knows he needs a little more information before venturing on his own.]
no subject
Up until now, Sokka has been trying to explain this strange place in terms of the world he knows. The man in front of him, wearing those colors and bearing a war wound, must somehow be related to the Fire Nation; the word "fridge," which Sokka can now attach to a concept as he assumes that's the first place the man checks for supplies, and other unusual objects could be the product of Fire Nation innovation. There's a lot that they've revealed throughout the course of the war that no one realized they had developed. It's possible all this falls under that umbrella.
But the food changes everything. As soon as Sokka sees the variety, the boxes and cartons, the prepackaged items and cans, the word milk on something that definitely doesn't look like it holds milk — he realizes he was wrong. The Fire Nation may have developed a lot of war contraptions without anyone knowing, but there's no way they would have changed the way they feed their people in such a short period of time. Sokka was just there; he didn't see anything like this in Fire Nation borders.
He picks up the can opener with his free hand. It isn't a weapon, given that it's bladed in a less-than-practical way. He holds it as he might a dagger as he studies it, trying to discern what it might be used for. It looks like it could be a shucking tool, so maybe it's made to pry metal open. He could grab whatever he can carry and go — he should. But there's winging it and then there's being downright stupid and now — Sokka isn't sure which side of the line he's straddling.]
Where are you from?
[He's more subdued now, the tension draining from him as he tries to come up with a way to learn as much as possible about this place without putting himself at a disadvantage. Part of that means reconsidering his initial impression. This guy is too comfortable here, like he understands how everything works. Maybe he did wake up here confused just like Sokka. Or maybe Sokka's paranoia is correct and this is all some kind of twisted trick. Either way, he now knows he needs a little more information before venturing on his own.]