1964-02-11 - Escort of the Diplomats
Summary: With Shuri's arrival at a secret location, Clint is put to task to guard her.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None' — please, don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
clint shuri 


His hands are strangely calloused, though she might recognize the pattern of such. The firmness and rough knots of skin that mark years upon years of the same practiced movement and the pressure of flesh.

"Nothing more, got it." Those words delivered in the same tone, perhaps deliberately misunderstanding her words or perhaps dutifully reiterating her desires back to her. Whatever it is, his eyes give no hint one way or the other, nor do his features. Instead once she rises he turns to walk off after her, sparing a squint for Clarence as if vowing some dire fate for the man in the future.

And then it's just the two of them out in the hallway with him giving her a nod and then starting to walk down the hallway. Occasionally they pass other agents or operatives. Clint is barely glanced at, though Shuri… she is the benefactor of second and third glances. Some of them are just born from curiousity, others attraction. But no words are broached until they're riding down the whisper-silent elevator.

It's inside there, alone, that he'll address her without looking at her. "Let me know what you need and I'll rustle it up." His voice is… lazy, almost lackadaisical and the words at times run together in the manner of the mid-west, perhaps an accent she hasn't been exposed to yet. "But figure we should get you squirreled away somewhere safe."

There's a pause as those words hang there in the elevator, and then after a few moments he remembers… or perhaps decides only then to add, "Princess."

A slight glance was spared towards the Agent, though with a shake of her head, Shuri moves on. Her mind was racing, she had never seen such pale and strange faces all in one place, in fact it was completely unnerving. But far be it from her to be self conscious, or even a little bit frightened, she kept her head held high and often times cut a few glances towards those she passes in her attempt to not be too observant.

As they step upon the elevator, Shuri puts her back to the wall, a slight step aside which places her upon the apex of the corner. Even still, she does not look towards the taller agent, yet until he mentions a squirreling away, is when her brows lower into a hint of anger.

"Me what?" She asks, finally turning in his direction, her brown eyes nearly lit with fire. It calms consideringly, this squirrel he speaks about allows her to shake her head in a sense that she was speaking to a child. "I'll require a domicile. A clean place of rest." She finally states. "And water. I am thirsty and in need of a shower." Her mind begins to work there after, only quieting down as the doors to the elevator open, in which she steps out of. "And I am no animal. Let alone a squirrel." She looks amused, but it only last for a second.

"After I am settled you shall return to your betters, your services are no longer required."

A slight glance was spared towards the Agent, though with a shake of her head, Shuri moves on. Her mind was racing, she had never seen such pale and strange faces all in one place, in fact it was completely unnerving. But far be it from her to be self conscious, or even a little bit frightened, she kept her head held high and often times cut a few glances towards those she passes in her attempt to not be too observant.

As they step upon the elevator, Shuri puts her back to the wall, a slight step aside which places her upon the apex of the corner. Even still, she does not look towards the taller agent, yet until he mentions a squirreling away, is when her brows lower into a hint of anger.

"Me what?" She asks, finally turning in his direction, her brown eyes nearly lit with fire. It calms consideringly, this squirrel he speaks about allows her to shake her head in a sense that she was speaking to a child. "I'll require a domicile. A clean place of rest." She finally states. "And water. I am thirsty and in need of a shower." Her mind begins to work there after, only quieting down as the doors to the elevator open, in which she steps out of. "And I am no animal. Let alone a squirrel." She looks amused, but it only last for a second.

"After I am settled you shall return to your betters, your services are no longer required."

After her steady roll of words, Clint seems unphased. He's still standing in the center of the elevator with his eyes held up towards the lights that flicker on and off as they ride the conveyance downwards. He keeps the folder under one arm and his off hand is in the pocket of his jeans, looking so terribly nonchalant. And as she speaks he remains that way, calm, collected… and even a few moments after she speaks he looks as if he might not have heard her.

But then he lifts his voice and dismisses any momentary doubt that he hadn't, "First off, Princess, I don't exactly take orders from you." He's still watching the numbers, from 7-6 now, the elevator making a quiet 'ding' as it counts down..

"So we'll get you set in one of the hotel rooms that we use for VIPs and all. You'll be set with all the best things in the world and all that."

The elevator continues its descent and he casually rubs at the bridge of his nose. 6-5 now, /ding/. "I figure I'm to stay on duty in your immediate vicinity since I'm not sure if you're aware of it your worshipfulness, but we're sort of in the middle of a whole mess of crazy. So best nothing happen to you."

There's another /dong, 5-4. "But HQ doesn't do anything in half-measures, I figure they also know I was the fella that made contact with your friend T'Challa when he was doing his thing last year." There's a small shrug, "So figure they might think I might be able to help you more than yer expectin."

Shuri's lips open as he begins to speak to her, her body whipping around with a finger raised to begin to unleash a holy hell of words in her mother-tongue, but.. he just keeps going. Floor by floor, she was beginning to become infuriated, for the gall of him and the way he speaks to her nearly illicits a violent response but yet.. she does not sully diplomatic relations because her honor was near shattered. Instead, that hand snaps down to her side, her teeth a solid grit as she turns away from him, the mention of T'Challa clearly stinging as her gaze turns yet again.

"I can care for myself, Mister Agent Barton." She snaps. "And T'Challa is no fellow. He is the Prince of Wakanda and I am his sister. You would do well to read the files that your superiors have given you. And while you have been assigned to be the escort to the Royal of Wakanda, you shall -not- be needed. I do not require help from the help. And there is nothing further to discuss."

She whips away from him again, her headdress falling at a slight slant, her hand snapping up to push the tired thing back into place. "Show me to my quarters. And you are to not enter." Mostly because she was going to sneak out of the goddamned window after this encounter.

For a moment he'll glance at her aside and if she had been looking she might have caught a faint glimmer of sympathy in his eyes. He knows how it is when people presume to hold some dominion over you, or to know how best to proceed in an operation, and it always stinks to be saddled with extra luggage. Just, usually, for him it's the other person that's the load. But then he looks away.

"Sister. Forgive me, Princess." Hawkeye doesn't, however, move to refresh himself with the file. He just keeps riding the elevator down and then lets her stew for a little bit of time until the elevator dings sub-level B2 and the car park. Once the doors open he tells her, "I am sure you can handle yourself, ma'am." He steps out into the dimly lit parking garage, moving towards one of the rather unremarkable black sedans that have their windows tinted just enough to obscure those inside.

It's once they reach that car that he turns to face her and that's the first time their eyes have met. He's handsome, in that roguish westerner sort of way, a depiction in the typical annoying American. It's just there is something in the blue irises that might seem curious. Not as if he were laughing at her, but as if he were trying to reach across the distance. "It's just that I was aware of Prince T'Challa having dropped off the radar. I had a few thoughts about that. But I wasn't in a place to… well really do much."

He looks away as he unlocks the doors to the car and then steps back from the passenger seat to allow her entry. "I'll stay out of your way. But I can't rightly stay in the hall. Don't worry. It's a suite. And if you want to sneak out, I won't stop you." At that his lip twitches slightly, perhaps a hint of a shared joke. But not much of one.

Freedom.

The final ding of the sub-level floor draws her out into the open, her gaze darting towards each shadow that the underground park-lot provides. Her lips press, her fingers lift to pull the clutch from beneath her arm, the snap opened soon as a napkin was retrieved and the dark red lipstick soon wiped away from her lips. As he walks, she follows completely, a little bit distracted as she begins the removal of the makeup, which was soon stopped as the car was reached and her body straightens as if she were addressed by someone with authority.

"Princess." She corrects quietly, her head bobbing ever so slightly, his turn allows her to take a step back to fully appreciate the taller man in the dimly lit light. T'was as if she were a cat ready to pounce as she watches him, her eyes squinting, her head tilting slightly to the side as suspicion grows far more than attraction.

"I am unsure as to how to take this revelation, Mister Agent Barton." She states quietly. "Are you in such a place to do much now?" As the doors were unlocked, Shuri hesitates, her hands lifting to draw the ceremonial wrap from her head, unraveling it with a quickened, practiced motion which winds along her forearm and melds in with her garb. His joke, if it was even that was completely missed, for now she stares at him with wonder before she ever enters into the car.

"Are you one of those mutants that my people have heard rumor about?" It was an honest question. "I am unsure how to feel with being in the presence of a mind reader. I have heard of them before. Very dangerous." She eyes him once more, then slowly slides into the passenger seat of the car, her wrap unraveled from her arm and placed within her lap at a bundle so that she could quietly fold it. "I aim to find my brother, Mister Agent Barton. No matter what the cost to my own sake or safeties."

*

At her first question he gives a small shrug, "I'm a resourceful person. I like to think, Princess."

"Nah," Clint's response to her next question as to him being a mutant is calm as he steps around over to the driver's side. He slips into the seat and attaches the seat belt, then nods to her to do likewise if she would. Then the key is slid into the ignition and the car roars to life before settling into a low rumble. He turns to the side, arm sliding onto the back of the seat as he looks over his shoulder while backing up.

"Just a student of people. And I figured if my brother had gone missin', not much I wouldn't do ta find him." For a moment she might catch the faint haze of reflection that crosses his features, perhaps thoughts to his own brother taking him before he adjusts the car and starts towards the series of roundabout ramps that lead up and out of the building. "But figured chances were even you might try to slip out. If you were thinking about it I'd seem wise and perspicacious. If you weren't then I'd seem like I was making a joke."

And by then they're pulling out into traffic. He'll let the drive continue in silence unless she should press him for further answers.

*

At his indication, Shuri carefully tugs the seatbelt from it's spot, shifting her garb just enough to allow it to click into place. She tightens the strap against her body, then finally leans back with a breath, attempting to allow herself to relax as she keeps her gaze pressed to the window. But it was a silent comfort to hear that he had a sibling just as she, even more so comforting that the pointed tip of her nail sinks into tangled locks to drag along her scalp as he begins to drive.

"So you are a gambler." She states as if she were confirming a fact, her head leaning in his direction with a lazy stare, torn away to settle for her own window again as she near slumps down within her seat. And yet, the drive itself would be in silence. There was nothing more for Shuri to say in such closed space, she was thinking about the next steps into finding T'Challa and bringing him home.

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