"You're such a sight for sore eyes," she continued to gibber-jabber. "Oh, I could kiss you. Right on the...on the everything."

But when Sokka kept speaking Rohirric, she grew wary. Perhaps he didn't remember her? Oh -- her heart sank at the prospect. However--

She released him and stepped back, pawing at her helmet (proudly tooled as it was despite her status) until she was free. It dropped to the ground; obviously, this rider was not so reverent with the trappings of office as others were wont to be. Shoes were forgotten. She focused now on clawing her knife-shorn hair out of its matted style.