[ Zuko comes closer as invited, taking a seat on the edge of the bench beside the bomber, careful to still leave a full enough range of motion if Gokudera wanted to play to the far right. His face is painted with empathy and concern and worry and fear and pity and all these things, this look he can't hide as all of it sinks in. Zuko knew how much worth Gokudera put into his sense of "worth," how worthless he made himself out to be if not for his abilities and how he could protect the Tenth or play piano, that's it. For someone to injure his hands — something that jeopardized both those capabilities — it made Zuko seeth inside, heartbroken for all his friend has been through. He'd already been through too much in his life. Zuko doesn't know what to do with this information, with this feeling, with this empathy that makes him want to reach out and hug him but won't, deliberately... He's oddly thankful to be caught off guard by his next question, then. ]
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Train with you? Like fighting?