Somehow, hearing Korra say it makes all the difference: they are perfect for one another. Maybe not to be together, but certainly to be together, all of them. It's just enough to validate what he's felt inside for a long time. That there's a them, and there ought to be a them - Korra is special, and she needs the loving support of companions her own age.

The White Lotus is great, but they're not Korra's friends.

"I still like you because you're still great - and we're gonna figure out how to get the rest of your Avatar bending back. I don't know anything about the Avatar except what I've read, but I've read a lot--" he does turn a little pink at admitting what must already have been plain "--and I just ... have a good feeling, about you, and about the universe. That if you need it, you're going to get it back. There wouldn't be an Avatar if the Avatar was just going to be left out to hang like ... like forgotten laundry. You're not going to be forgotten because of what Amon did to you, Korra. I know there's a right track. And we're going to make sure the Korra train gets on it at the station. This place could be the place to start, so. Keep your hopes up and be patient, okay?"

He sits up again to try to catch her eyes. "I just wanted to try to take care of worrying about everything else," he says, tilting his head at the messy stacks of neatly-folded clothing and towels.