Suits and Ties and Flashy Smiles / T’Challa Open Starter
Black-tie events are not something T’Challa is overly fond of. He never has been, which can make life difficult as a prince.
Despite the differences in cultures and customs, the US Government’s functions seem much the same as those in Wakanda. As far as the eye can see, officials and their wives are dressed in their best, dripping in jewels and laughing far too loudly to be genuine. Having been here for all of three days, T’Challa is struggling to find his place among the people here.
It started with government negotiations for his stay, ensuring that he understands why he is really here and what role he can play. It hadn’t taken him long to determine that the American senators are not looking for assistance in the face of recent events, but simply people to rally behind them.
He wonders if they realise this stretches far beyond their country.
From there it had been a matter of making his way to his residence, leased out for him and his guards indefinitely; then a series of meetings to establish some sort of direction and plan, until he suddenly found himself invited to an event to celebrate the progress the government is making in this matter.
He takes another sip of his drink as he scans the room. After some time spent mingling, polite introductions and casual conversations, T’Challa finds himself wishing he could find at least one familiar face. Somehow, after a very small amount of time, he’s already realised just how different Wakanda truly is to the rest of the world. How much they have yet to learn.
Letting out a sigh, he leans against the table he’s been hovering by and takes another drink. keeping his expression steady, polite and void of frustration of exhaustion, just as he’s been trained to hold for as long as he can remember.
Carol tried very hard to look interested in what the government officials were saying but her mind kept wandering. She can understand what they’re trying to do in hosting this event and perhaps, years ago, she would’ve been interested. She may have even enjoyed it, once upon a time. It was an honour to be invited to the event and it was this that she tried to focus on as she resisted an eye-roll at the various attendees schmoozing.
Shifting awkwardly through the crowds as soon as an opportunity arose to politely excuse herself, she headed towards the bar. Her more rational side was trying to steer her away from drinking as it would no doubt result in disaster but the nastier side of her mind was reassuring her ‘just one wouldn’t hurt’. Plastering a smile to her face as she passed through the crowds, nodding cordially and muttering a few greetings to those she recognised whilst internally warring with herself over whether to break her promise not to drink that evening.
A somewhat familiar face came into her periphery vision and she took the distraction, willing the spiraling thoughts in her head to shut up as she tried to recall a name. He was standing alone and appeared to be calm and collected but years of military and infiltration training taught her to pick up on the subtle cues that most would miss. If she had to guess, she would say he was as miserable as she was with the entire affair.
Hoping she wasn’t about to make a complete ass of herself, she stepped towards him with a more friendly smile than she had given anyone else at the event and tentatively offered a greeting.
“Your Highness,” She said, “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Carol, Carol Danvers.”
