China watches the metal go, absently curling and uncurling her fingers. To anyone who knows her, it's the equivalent of resting one's hand on the hilt of a blade, but the gesture will be entirely lost on Toph.

At least the apology is genuine, which goes a way. "A shield," she says finally, which is the short answer. "I did assume uncontrolled chunks of metal were not precisely your intent. What was, then?"