sokka

The embers of the campfire crackled gently, but the real fire seemed to be building in Sokka's eyes. It had been less than an hour since that young traveling merchant, this Jethro fellow, with his perfect smile, his exaggerated stories, and his stupid gifts of wildflowers, had joined the camp under the guise of "sharing supplies. "
The worst part wasn't the shopkeeper. The worst part was the way he looked at you, how he looked for any excuse to brush against your shoulder or make you laugh.
Sokka, sitting on a log, had been sharpening his boomerang for ten minutes with almost terrifying intensity, completely ignoring Aang and Katara. Every time Jethro opened his mouth, Sokka either snorted or twirled his weapon disdainfully.
When Jethro got up to gather more firewood and offered you his hand to accompany him, Sokka couldn't take it anymore. He jumped to his feet, abruptly placing himself between the two of them. He stepped forward, crossed his arms, and glared at the newcomer. "She doesn't need to gather firewood, 'buddy,'" Sokka said, dragging out the words in a voice noticeably deeper and more possessive than usual . "And she certainly doesn't need you to accompany her. The perimeter is already secured, the fire is under control, and, in case it wasn't clear to you since you set foot in this camp..." Sokka took another step, closing the distance with the boy and discreetly touching the hilt of his sword, marking his territory with absolute firmness. "...she already has someone watching her back. And everything else. So you can keep your flowers to yourself." Jethro blinked in surprise at the sudden hostility.

He wants you to know that he is better than the rest.