I walk down the hall to one of the offices we're allowed to stay in and find T'Challa there. Steve's in the glass-walled office in the middle of the control center and Sam's with Sharon wherever she is. She apparently also goes by Agent 13. I really like her — she seems pretty chill.

I quietly enter the room with my hands in my pockets. The now Wakandian King doesn't bat a lash. In fact, he doesn't even look up from his phone. I don't mind. I plop down on the black leather chair across from him and slouch down so I can rest the back of my head against the back of the chair. I shut my eyes and finally allow myself to relax. "So, you like cats?" I question without moving. I hear a faint chuckle coming from the Royal.

"You know, your friend asked me the exact same question." T'Challa comments. I grin and then lift my head while opening my eyes. I'm surprised he's actually speaking to me like a person. He doesn't sound hostile either.

"Sam?" I inquire with a lift a brow.

"Indeed." He confirms. I chuckle and let my head fall back against the back of the chair.

"Sounds about right." I'm glad there's no animosity between the two of us. I mean, I'm usually petty when it comes to getting injured but I'm too curious to be petty right now. Plus it doesn't hurt to try and get on his good side in case I ever need an ally or want to win him over. "So...I don't think I quite understand everything." I begin and sit up before righting myself in my chair. "Uh...do you mind me asking about your culture?" I ask with an honest sincerity. T'Challa looks at me in surprise before another small smile graces his lips.

"Please, go ahead." He motions in an inviting way.

"Well first off, what's your country like?" I ask as I rest my elbows on my knees while I lean forward.

"It is a beautiful country." The King smiles at me, setting his phone down in his lap as he folds his hands together. "It's mainly rainforests, with areas of plainland for farming. My country is divided by tribes." My eyebrows spring upwards, willing him to elaborate. "There is my tribe, my people -- the Panther Clan." He sits back in his chair. His eyes fix on a point on the wall behind me as he speaks of his home. "There is also the White Gorillas, the Lion Clan, the Crocodile Clan, and the Hyena Clan. We all have our own leaders, villages, and ways. My father ruled over all them, except the White Gorilla clan. I will now take his place." I nod, engrossed in the information being given to me.

"You guys protect the Vibranium, right?" I ask with intrigue. T'Challa nods. "And I'm assuming you protect it from those who'd like to steal it? From mercenaries and the like?"

"Yes." He confirms.

"Wow. That's a lot of responsibility." I wince to myself. I full and well know that'd I'd never be able to handle something like that.

"It is, but it is now my duty as King." The male says sadly, looking at his hands.

"I'm sorry about your father. It's terrible what happened to him." I cautiously say in earnest. T'Challa sharply looks up at me.

"Then why help the man who murdered him?" He demands. I softly sigh as I lean back in my chair.

"I was not originally here for that reason. I was sent here to keep Steve and Sam out of trouble..." I trail off.

"It does not seem like you succeeded." The olive-skinned man says flatly. I laugh.

"No, I did not. Instead, I somehow got dragged into this mess." I sigh. "I always get dragged into messes. My luck sucks." I tilt my head and give T'Challa a half smile. "However...when I arrived, I soon received new information," I state calmly. "James was framed." I remove my hands from my pockets before reaching up and placing a hand on my covered wound timidly. I notice his eyes follow the movement. "It wasn't him who bombed the UN. How would he have been able to get from Vienna to Bucharest in such a short amount of time? After that bomb went off, all borders got shut down, right?" I question and see T'Challa nod slowly. He seems to be mulling over my words. "I understand he was an assassin and might've had his ways, but think about it. If he did do the bombing...do you think he would have really gone out into the public to buy plums? He's much smarter than that. You and I both know this." The corners of my lips twitch before pulling into a frown. "I don't know why or who bombed that meeting, but I do know it was not Bucky. He's just as much a victim as your father was." I calmly state, my eyes dropping to the floor. "He's...done some things in his past, but not willingly. Unlike what everybody's spinning, Barnes is a prisoner of war. He was taken by HYDRA and forced to do their bidding. They tore him down and built him back up as a mindless man without a choice. I'm positive he's going through his own hell right now." My voice weakens throughout my sentences until it completely dies out. The two of us remain silent. Both of us are stuck in our own thoughts. "So, what's up with the suit?" I pipe up in an attempt to find a lighter topic as I look at the man opposite of me.

"It is the symbol of my people. The Black Panther has been a protector of Wakanda for generations, a mantle I now hold in addition to King." He informs me. I nod.

"The suit's made with Vibranium, right?" I ask.

"Correct." T'Challa nods.

"And the claws?" I gently rub my hand over the gauze that protected my wound.

"Also Vibranium." His eyes shift to my arm. "How is your injury?" He asks, his eyebrows pulled together.

"Uh," I look at the wound before shrugging one shoulder, "it feels numb and like jelly at the same time." I chuckle.

"I apologize. It was not my intent to harm you." T'Challa offers. I give him a curt smile.

"I'm sure it's just a flesh wound. It'll heal." I cast one lingering look at it.

"And the bracers?" The King asks, motioning to the metal that crawls up my arms.

"Meant to suppress my abilities. They emit a low frequency that disturbs my mental processes, creating a hellish headache that completely shuts me down if I try to draw upon my abilities." I twist my arms as I examine the devices.

"Interesting..." He says, mainly to himself.

"I thought so too. Don't really like wearing them, but the science is cool nevertheless." My eyes shift to the door of the office as Natasha enters, my phone in her hand. My eyebrows lift. She shoots me a small smirk.

"So I guess when you said you'd do it yourself," The redhead begins, obviously speaking to T'Challa. She walks over to my chair and sits on the left armrest as she fires me a smile. Her attention then shifts back to the King. "you meant you'd do it yourself." I have absolutely no idea what's happening. However, I listen with interest.

"You are not used to the truth, are you?" T'Challa questions Natasha with furrowed brows. He seems like he's trying to figure her out. She doesn't comment.

"I got a look at your suit. Vibranium weave." She lays out the facts as I smile. "I'm very impressed." This causes my eyebrows to jump up as I sharply turn to look at her. I don't think I've ever heard Natasha openly say that she's impressed by something. "You realize this puts you under the Accords' jurisdiction?" Nat asks. This time T'Challa doesn't comment.

"How long do your psychological evaluations usually take?" The Kingly figure asks.

"Why, you bored?" She fires back with a lifted brow. I stifle a chuckle.

"Not currently." He fires me a little smile. "But my prisoner and I have a plane to catch." T'Challa says and all traces of amusement drop from the room. I know he's talking about Bucky. I just didn't know he was planning on taking him back to his country for prosecution. Though it does make sense. He believes Barnes killed his father...

"I realize you're not one for politics..." Natasha begins, "I think there's a chance you may be being a bit naive." She finishes. Before T'Challa can say anything, Everett Ross comes strolling down the hallway clapping his hands before he pokes his head into the room.

"Congratulations, Your Highness!" He says in exuberance. "He got extradition." Ross then says flatly before promptly exiting. Natasha watches on with slightly wide eyes. I rub my face and let out a soft groan. Well, it looks like Bucky will be taking a trip to Wakanda for a crime he didn't commit.

"Yes, Ms. Romanoff, I'm sure I have much to learn." T'Challa says. The room falls silent and I drop my hands back to my lap. Natasha's jaw tightens before she looks down at me, offering me my phone. I lift a brow at her as I take it.

"It looks like you've got over fifty missed calls from your boyfriend." She winks, stands up, and struts out. My eyes follow her the entire time until she's out of my sight. That's when my attention finally shifts down to the screen of my phone.

"Is he like you?" T'Challa questions. I look over at the man behind the Black Panther with a confused look for a moment. Realization then dawns on me.

"O-oh, Pietro? Yeah. He's got abilities also." I smile faintly.

"What is he able to do?" The royal asks.

"He's got super speed, among some other science-y things I don't quite fully understand." I smile shyly.

"Ah. That must be the only reason he can keep up with you." The King smiles at me. I chuckle and nod slowly.

"Yeah, I think that's about right." My finger slides up and down the black screen of my phone.

"I never did ask about you... What is it that you are able to do?" He inquires. I reach up and rub the back of my neck.

"Energy manipulation, increased rate of healing, and thermodynamics." I confess. "It's a blessing and a curse I guess. If I use manipulation in relation to heat for too long, I can overheat and pass out. If I play with light for a great time, I can go blind for a few hours. With general energy manipulation, if I overdo it or use all the energy up I can go into cardiopulmonary failure resulting in my death due to cellular shutdown. I also have this nagging feeling that if I overdo energy manipulation I could potentially tear myself to shreds..." My nose twitches as I list off my abilities.

"You are more than meets the eye, Iris." T'Challa states, studying me. I shyly smile and look at my hands.

Did he just make a friggin pun?

"It appears so." I reply.

"Are your abilities the reason for your eyes being different?" The King asks seriously. This causes me to sharply look up. I had forgotten about my oddly colored iris'. I bet that's why everybody seems super freaked out when I look at them.

"You are correct." I confirm. "I usually wear dark shades to hide the fact. They usually freak people out..." I look at my hands again, now incredibly self-conscious.

"You shouldn't. They are...unique, just as you are." T'Challa offers. I slowly look up at him.

"Are you flirting with me, Your Highness?" I grin across the room at the man. His lips twitch upwards in a smile.

"I would never." T'Challa says with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. I laugh and shake my head. We both look at each other, smiles on our faces, before the power in the building abruptly dies. Red emergency lights flicker on throughout the room. Both T'Challa and I sit up straighter as we look around the control center.

Something is amiss...and it can't be good.