The Prince, The Press, & The Plan (T'Chantem, Theo, Niko)

OOC: Joint post between GrayGladiator, Blitzen, & Esimed
T'Chantem stood in front of the mirror at the marble top vanity in his hotel room's bathroom, his eyes focusing carefully on his reflection that stared back. His appearance was as spruce as he could manage, and he was far from being an eyesore to the stoic and judgmental stares he was sure to receive during his speech. It was second nature to double check himself before he headed out for the day, a habit that had been drilled into him ever since he was young. Expectations had always been extremely high, almost to the point that the way most people viewed him and what they desired from him was near impractical, but he always made sure to find a way to deliver both what the people asked for and what he believed they needed. Anxiously straightening an already perfect, silver tie, the young prince gave himself a final once over before meeting with the other Wakandan representatives. He was dressed in a simple black suit accented with a silver tie, vibranium bracelet, and the staples of every outfit he wore; the Wakandan royal ring and his kimoyo beads. He wasn't one for bright and vulgar attire, especially when it came to formal events, and like his father, he inherited the preference of choosing more subtle and almost elusive styles.

A few minutes later, T'Chantem sat silently in the back of the same black car that had been issued to him as transportation for his diplomatic affairs in America. He had recited the key points of his speech several times in his head, ensuring that his words were articulate and easily understood to his audience, especially to the many news medias and outlets that were waiting to fish and bait an eye-catching headline for their exaggerated stories and melodramatic stretches of the truth. When the car came to a stop, he sat waiting until his door was opened by his driver, who then proceeded to move aside as the other envoys surrounded him, tailed closely by their personal security. Despite the fact that he had arrived several hours before the event began, reporters still swarmed around him like a hive of worker bees taking their chance at the forbidden fruit in Persephone's garden, however these unfortunate souls wished to be trapped in the deadly circle of concealed weaponry with him, their cameras flashing in a frenzy of irritating light. Thankfully, Wakanda's security was both adamant and efficient in their jobs, and quickly reacted to the surge of reporters by promptly rearranging themselves in proper formation based on how the mob of reporters shifted and churned. T'Chantem simply continued to walk, determined to not give the sea of cameras and bobbing microphones a chance to capture his attention.

When he finally entered the building, the security surrounding him and the other ambassadors changed their formation once again, this time spreading wide to allow them space to be greeted and escorted to their proper waiting arrangements. It wasn't much longer before T'Chantem would be presented before a crowd, and he decided it was best to kill any remaining time by engaging in small, and mostly pointless conversations with the other diplomats that had arrived to also speak. By the time it was eight-thirty, T'Chantem was lead to the main room where he would give his speech along with the other diplomats, and he patiently waited until it was his turn to share his thoughts. Approaching the podium, he beamed his signature charming smile, quickly glancing through the crowd before he began with his usual introduction.

"Good morning, my name is T'Chantem Munroe, and I am here to help speak on behalf of the Wakandan nation, as its Golden Tribe representative." By the time T'Chantem had came to the conclusion of his speech, he had picked up a fair amount of momentum, and fell into a more natural flow, which allowed his audience to be more captivated by his words, something that was signaled by once dull expressions suddenly alive with interest. He completed his speech with a quick summary of Wakanda's plans to aid several impoverished countries through partnership with an American technology business, before stepping down from the podium and retaking his seat. Even though T'Chantem would refrain from saying that he was nervous when speaking to foreign people in foreign countries, he couldn't help but notice his own body physically relax when he was finally done and away from the spotlight.

Why do speeches take so long?” Niko grumbled, first to himself, then out loud, whispering to Theo who promptly shushed him by holding up a single finger. “But--” Theo held up her finger more emphatically. “I just want--” the third interruption was coupled with what could only be described as ‘the look’, so defeated and deflated, Niko let out an audible huff as he leaned his chair back on two legs.

The floor was opened up to questions and reporters clamored to be the first to ask questions to the Consulate’s public affairs officer. They started with the usual fare, boring questions, boring details involving the boring kinds of technologies and time frames, things Niko completely tuned out as he rocked his chair precariously back and forth. But when the girl next to him in the long red coat stood up to ask her own question, he near fell completely backwards. “Miskja Brat!” He hissed, pulling on her coat. “What are you doing?”

“We came to ask the Prince of Wakunda for his assistance. I’m asking the Prince of Wakunda for his assistance.” She contended. Niko’s jaw literally hung open for a quick second.

“I don’t think here is the right place--” Niko started to say, but by then the officer had pointed to Theo and the room went silent. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Niko rose to stand by his cousin in a show of solidarity. Whatever she had to say, he would support, whole heartedly.

“T’Chantem… May I call you T’Chantem? My name is Theodosia Maximoff. I wanted to know how you felt about the possibility of funding a project involving the progeny of heroes the likes of Scarlet Witch and your mother, who are now fifteen years gone?” From the very back, a solitary man coughed. Theo turned her head around to look at the throng of reporters and correspondents. She thought she had more to say, but given their disaster of an interview with NBC, she opted to end this exchange with more class. She turned back to T’Chantem, “Also, have you tried the churros?” To demonstrate the latter, she held up her remaining churro as an offering. Niko brought his hand nonchalantly to hers to lower the cinnamon treat as the room remained hushed.

T’Chantem was usually well-prepared to effectively manage any barrage of questions news reporters threw his direction. He had been acting as an active diplomat for years, and almost no question at this point seemed too bizarre, but even he was momentarily caught off guard when the Maximoff cousins, who had as of late became the star students of headlines, stood before him. Careful to maintain his composure, T'Chantem listened to Theodosia's proposal, silently considering her offer before he spoke. "It is my pleasure to meet you both, Theodosia and Nikolai, though I admittedly did not expect you to be here," he commented, quickly glancing to the other representatives that had accompanied him, apparently they were also anticipating how he would handle the turn of events, they had more than likely been paying attention to the news feeds themselves. "I'll have your people reach out to me, and I will have your answer once we are able to discuss in more detail what you have planned," he responded. There was a brief pause between his final words and the flashing of lights, and the Public Affairs Officer decided it was the appropriate time to bring the conference to an end.

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