The final hours of their flight had been spent with him detailing the intricacies of Wakandan greeting etiquette in an attempt to prepare her for the cultural differences she would immediately come to encounter – “with age comes knowledge and wisdom beyond that of Kings, and so you should begin always by greeting with a bow each individual who surpasses me in age, regardless of their rank or title,” he worked to explain, “when bowing, maintain direct eye contact – to look away is to imply that you are attempting to hide something.”
“After you have bowed, you should extend your right hand in a handshake. It will be you, always, who will initiate this greeting unless you are meeting with a woman who is either older than you or in possession of a title more significant than yours – in which case, she will be the one to extend her right hand in greeting, and you will accept the handshake. These handshakes will be prolonged but not particularly firm – to squeeze as much as is custom in an American handshake could be interpreted as hostile intent.”
“Once you have come to be familiar with a person, handshakes might be accompanied by three to five alternating cheek kisses, starting always with the right cheek,” he said, “also at this level of familiarity, it is not uncommon that you will be asked to address a person in a less formal manner. Until that time, however, you should address members of the Royal Family with use of their honourific accompanied by their first name unless otherwise explicitly invited to drop the title. All other government officials are addressed as “Martaba” without the use of their names – if you cannot remember our word for an honourific, you may use the English equivalent, “Excellency”…” he began to trail off steadily towards the end of his sentence, looking over to Darcy at his side.
He did not mean to cause Darcy any sort of undue stress, but with the amount of information he was pouring on her, he was certain he was managing to do exactly that which he intended not to – he attempted to reassure her, resting a hand lightly on her knee and offering her a kind smile, “you will do great,” he said, leaning over to give her a brief kiss, “I know you will.”
She might not be using her political science degree, but Darcy had genuinely enjoyed earning it. So she knows even before they board the plane that she’s in for a crash course on Wakandan customs and etiquette. She just isn’t aware of how much she has to learn. She starts out fine, listening and nodding along as he begins to tell her what she’ll need to know to keep from offending anyone. But it’s not long after he begins that she begins to frown and gnaw anxiously on her lower lip.
“This whole age thing is a little dangerous -- I don’t wanna offend anyone for assuming they’re older than I am and they’re not. Or vice versa. You can’t judge people by looking at them,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him. They’ve yet to have a conversation about age -- another sign that they’ve done their whole relationship completely out of order -- but she knows for a fact that he’s older than she is.
All trace of playfulness fades again when T’Challa continues. The furrow in her brow deepens steadily, and her leg starts to jump, bouncing nervously as she imagines all of the many, many ways she could screw this up. His hand on her knee grabs her attention, and his kiss still her anxiety.
“I’m glad you know that ‘cause I’m pretty sure I’m gonna start an international crisis of some sort.” One of her hands rubs over the swell of her belly, and the other tangles with his where it rests on her knee. Both touches anchor her enough that she can concentrate, and she tentatively asks the question that’s been creeping around in her mind since the thought that she might end up in Wakanda first occurred to her.
“So how........ how not me should I be when we get there? I--.... God, I don’t wanna disappoint you or embarrass you, and we both know I just say stuff without even meaning to, and I know you find it refreshing but--
