Howl is polite to Mako and Bolin.

It's all he can do, really. Howl isn't one for being rude, for acting jealous, for being possessive. Korra isn't his, and though he's eyeing Mako with figurative daggers, he knows he isn't going to fight. It's Korra's choice of who she likes, who she'll love, who she'll dance with to that fast song about twenty feet away.

Her hair is down, she's wearing a dress, and it's all new to him. If it wasn't for Korra's arm muscles, for the armband she had stolen from him in the South Pole so long ago, Howl almost wouldn't have recognized her. But those eyes are holding that same fire as she dances freestyle, with movements that Howl knows are secretly practiced.

No one else seems to pick up on that, however, as evidenced by the words that Bolin utters when he slides up next to Howl, shoving a glass of liquor into his hands. "She can dance pretty well, huh?"

"You think so?" Howl comments in return, and Bolin laughs.

"You seen some dancers in your time?"

"I just can tell she's running through the moves in her head," Howl says. "The eyebrows."

Bolin is quiet for a moment, as he focuses on Korra's face and takes a sip of his drink. Several seconds after he swallows the alcohol, he laughs. "Wow. You're right."

Howl attempts to hide his satisfied smile, but he can feel it shining through on his face.

"You know her pretty well, don't you?"

"I was her best friend when she lived in the South Pole," Howl confirms. He is avoiding touching his alcohol, and tentatively sets it down on the bar behind him.

"You don't sound so sure anymore."

Howl glances towards Bolin, to see a frown on the earthbender's face. It surprises Howl, somewhat, and he can't help but trust it—so what if Mako is his brother? There's something about a silent offer of alcohol between two young men, Howl has learned from his novels, that promises secrecy and trust.

"It's your brother," Howl says. Korra's still madly dancing next to him, laughter on her lips though her brows are still furrowed in concentration. Mako has no laughter, little joy in his steps, and he is constantly glancing down at his feet. "I think she likes him more than me."

"Hm," Bolin doesn't say anything, and Howl knows that his lack of comment confirms what Howl is thinking.

Maybe it's time to start drinking.

"I don't think so," Bolin smiles. "She talks about you a lot."

"She talks a lot about you and your brother, too," Howl says, not intending for bitterness to be laced in his words.

"Yeah. We're a matched set," Bolin jokes. "Well. Not completely." He pauses, considering how he is saying his words. "I do think she sees us as together a lot of the time, though. I don't mind that."

"And Mako especially," Howl knows the line is coming out of some romance novel, the particularly cheesy kind he hides under his bed, and Bolin laughs.

"Mako's Mako and he gets on her nerves," Bolin shrugs. "If she likes you and Mako, I think you still win."

"Why?"

"I dunno, you tell me," Bolin is suddenly walking away from Howl, and Howl is confused about this action when he notices Korra and Mako approaching him, Korra with a confused look on her face.

"Where'd Bolin go?"

"Dunno."

Mako sighs in exasperation, and briefly makes eye contact with Howl. Howl wonders if Mako's thought process is similar to his, if Mako even realizes that he's in the middle of a love triangle. Or maybe Mako is the sane one here, and Howl is just making up all of this himself.

"I'm gonna go find him."

And, mercifully, as if someone else was writing their story, he's alone with Korra.

"Well-" he begins to say, but Korra grabs onto his hand and is dragging him out onto the dance floor. Howl yelps in surprise from this sudden move, and he attempts to straighten his shirt collar. "Korra, I don't know how to dance."

"It's okay," Korra flashes a smile at him, and the world suddenly feels a lot simpler. A lot brighter. "Little secret: I don't either."

"You were doing just fine," Howl responds with the light lie, and Korra's infectious laugh is almost drowned out by the upbeat music. She begins to dance, and there is a lack of concentration in her face this time, she's just slamming her feet against the ground in a nonsensical pattern that is simply Korra.

Howl follows with his own brand of stomps. After a few seconds, he notices the stares, and Korra does as well, but when they glance at each other they erupt into laughter and it just causes more odd looks.

Neither of them care, though.

The night is perfect.

Howl is nearly out of breath and so is Korra when the song changes from its trumpets to a slower sound: a song that drops the mood in the room, and causes the couples around them to move a bit closer. Korra laughs again, at the song or situation Howl isn't sure, and she begins to move back towards the bar. "C'mon, Howl-"

"No," Howl grabs her hand. "Just one."

Korra's in shock at Howl's sudden move, he can tell. And she's trying to hold in her laughter as she moves closer, and she places a hand on his shoulder. "Can't believe this."

"You don't have to agree to it," Howl mutters.

She shakes her head. "Nah. I don't mind."

It's slow circles for the both of them-Howl's feet are large and Korra's aren't the most graceful, and they're often glancing down at their feet. Occasionally, they look up at the same time, and they dissolve into some sort of childish giggles that makes Howl feel like they're back home.

"Howl?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you came."