His eyes finally landed on her, as bits and pieces came back to him. He vaguely recalled seeing the brunette at the street market. In fact, Magna's face was the last he remembered before everything faded into blackness. He remembered the concern in...
A loud murmur of consternation and jeering spiralled around the audience, but T'Challa didn't care. He merely looked at them, stoically and without smiling.
She took a long drag before leaving her cigarette smouldering in the ashtray. Then, Magna removed one of the small lids from the box and tilted it. A small piece of paper slipped out first, fluttering silently to the floor; she made a grab for it and unfolded it. Her stomach tightened while she read the note slowly, her fingertip following the bold swipe of the pen strokes making up each letter and word. She already knew what it said, yet the message had the same impact Magna'd experienced the first time reading it.
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All the emotion Magna had been holding back threatened to spill over, filling her until she thought she might explode. Steve.
His exceptionally small neat handwriting was, unsurprisingly, attractive and easy to read, -he'd had military disciplline, after all,- in contrast to the almost illegible scribbles of hers.
Magna bit her bottom lip as she grinned and set the note next to the empty box. Then, unable to help herself, she picked up the only object her friend had mailed her. It was an old-fashioned looking flip phone. Nokia brand. Cheap. Likely paid for in cash. Likely untraceable.
"Now that's a fossil", she thought, liking the way she could clutch the thing securely in one hand.
❝ ... In times of crisis, the wise build bridges, while the foolish build barriers. We must find a way to look after one another, as if we were one single tribe. ❞
In the background, Magna's T.V broadcasted the audience of world leaders looking around, bemused, wondering what Wakanda could possibly have to offer. A number of intense stares were directed at the Wakandan King, who bore them stoically. Eventually, a French ambassador couldn't help but lean into his microphone and voice the collective confusion.
❝ With all due respect , King T'Challa , what can a nation of farmers offer to the rest of the world..? ❞
The valid -although offensively phrased- question sparked Magna's attention, so she glanced over her shoulder at the screen with a frown. There were a few low chuckles which made Nakia, Okoye and Ayo share a look. However, T'Challa only smiled.
A sudden hard knock at the door startled her, and the hair at the back of her neck rose. Magna eased around in a full circle, studying her apartment through the eyes of her many years of experience. Her hand moved, simultaneously turning the T.V off with the remote and grabbing the gun she kept hidden under the table -you know, just in case. Moving stealthy towards the door, she heard someone clear their throat.
— Room service.- the familiar deep voice dryly called out from the other side and Magna rolled her eyes. She quickly performed a security sweep, clicking her gun ready at the same moment the person on the other side spoke again. — ... Won't knock twice!- the voice sang with wry sarcasm, his tone of voice was a mixture of menace and impatience. A quick peek out the peephole sure enough revealed Nick Fury with Maria Hill by his side, the two looking both uncomfortable and annoyed. Taking a deep breath, she schooled her expression into a scowl and swung the door open for them without a word.
