This is it Guys.

Time for Westerner from the south to put their their foot in their mouth... I mean put their money where their mouth is... I mean their Avatar.

I, Lord Fenris, go toward Mustang fan, wake him up and let him gets up. The obviously ethanol soaked man tries to get up and overachieve success the third time.
Duh? he says using all of his three fonctionning brain cells.
I take off my tungsten plates reinforced chain mail gauntlet and hit him in the face. Twice, which was difficult as the second one had to hit him before he fell.
- You obviously forgot how to make a great feast after a victory. I hereby... Hey! You! Wake up!
- Bluh! answers brightly the ethilic fan.
I, losing a little my temper, take the nearly liquid guy by his shirt and shake him.
- Wake up! I yell in my best drill sergeant voice.
I slap the alcool permeated fool. Victory! He wakes up!
- I chalenge you to an Avatar bet!
- Huh?
- Let's make it simple. Your team lose, you lose the bet. Rules as usual. If you or any western fan accept, just say I'm in.