Samata had been the one to blast it, though she still felt bad about it. Fireball was such a dangerously uncontrolled spell, and Ippo probably had a few mild friendly fire burns. The Avatar was nice and cooked, though. She’d already apologized half a dozen times for catching him like that, and promised to herself to figure out a more accurate and precise attack spell.

She peered into the punch bowl suspiciously, and sniffed it. “No. Smells more like cherries to me...”

Well the heck with it. Samata poured herself a cup and held it out towards Ippo’s in a toast, “To victory!”