Iroh stares at her with disdain and pity: at her bitten-down fingernails that were once claws; at her matted, uneven hair; at her pale, blemished skin. But mostly he stares at the shallow defeat in her eyes, hollow behind the gold. "So, my niece," he says, with regret and just as much disappointment, "you have chosen destruction." "No," she says, and even her voice carries the stale echo of imprisonment. "You have destroyed me," and Iroh is very glad that she is a caged beast now.