The Prince, The Press and the Plan Part 2

((OOC: A continuation - a TriJP by Esimed, Grey Gladiator, and Blitzen))

IC:

"...and with that this concludes the conference, I'd like to thank each of you for showing up this morning..." as the officer continued to speak, T'Chantem kept his eyes mindfully on the two before he was escorted out the back towards his car. Before stepping into his vehicle, he stopped, ushering two women of his security to his side. "Wait here momentarily, there's something I want to attend to," T'Chantem informed his driver before walking along the side of the building. He looped around until he was near the front, waiting for the area to clear out before Bailey Bishop came bounding over: microphone in hand, blonde hair sprayed solid, and a cameraman at her heels. "Prince T'Chantem I have just a few more quest-"

"No comment," T'Chantem firmly responding, not even bothering to make eye contact with the much shorter woman despite her television worthy heels. "But Prince T'Cha-" she began again, stepping closer and attempting to shove the microphone closer to his face. Her stubbornness was quickly met with resistance from T'Chantem's two bodyguards, who swiftly moved themselves between the two, forcing Bishop and her crew back several more feet. Their glare were stern, and Bishop seemed to understand the memo as she fumbled over her next few words. T’Chantem only strided past her, his bodyguards right behind him as he approached the two exiting cousins.

“That’s not what I said at all,” Theo was pointing the stub of her churro at a reporter who was questioning her with an intrusive microphone. “Yes, those were my words, but that’s not what I was saying. I love parades, especially those organized for the LGBT community. I just can’t in good conscience support any more NBC sponsored events, chiefly due to your colleague, Bailey Bishop. B.D. Wong was the only other person in that room who listened to what we were saying. Every other journalist has intentionally twisted my meaning or avoided it all together. Much like you’re doing now. If we were a threat you’d not hear from us again until some bogus, wrongly theorized evil plan was ready to unleash on the people of New York. But I am not that wicked witch. I’m a good witch and I’m here to help. So if you want to do your small part to help, relay my words to the public without smearing them through the shit and agenda pushed by your corporate masters.”

“It sounds like your beef is with Bailey Bishop, not the people of New York.” This reporter was following the status quo for journalism. Avoid the content and stir the pot.

“You’re a fucking idiot. I don’t even know Bailey Bishop. I only met her the once, but I can tell you she’s no Mindingo Montoya from the 4PM hour.” Theo found the camera, which by this point there were a few, and addressed it directly. “I think I’m in love with you Mindingo Montoya! We should get together for a more intimate interview…..” At this point Niko grabbed hold of Theo’s arm and guided her away from the throng of reporters who he glowered at over his shoulder. Niko had killer abs and one hell of a discontented angry stare.

Prince T’Chantem separated himself from his own spurn reporter, none other than Bailey Bishop. Bishop turned to follow, held at a small distance as she was by the Prince’s bodyguards. She and Theo spotted one another like two boxers circling the ring before a match.

“So, about your project,” T’Chantem began, “Is there somewhere more private we could talk?” That broke the tension and Theo grew happy and smiles again.

“Don’t say the Sanctum.” Niko said, pleading with his eyes.

“That’s a great idea!” Theo agreed. “We can talk at the Sanctum. Birdy is there but he loves company. Also, we don’t have people so would we still have to talk to your people or are we skipping that since you’re right here? Sorry, I’m nervous. I’ve never been around royalty before.”

"Don't worry, I only said that for the cameras," T'Chantem confirmed between a smile, the most obvious hint at his growing excitement. In truth, T'Chantem didn't have people for them to contact either, at least not in America, unlike choosing the model of his car, it was his job to handle all foreign affairs when he was on diplomatic missions. The Maximoff cousins had proven to be just as interesting as they appeared in the headlines, and also just as strange, but that made them all the more interesting, and T'Chantem all the more eager to talk to them.

"Don't worry, don't even think of me as Prince T'Chantem, like you said earlier during the conference, I'm just T'Chantem, and of course you have my permission to call me by my name," T'Chantem reassured her. He had never heard of the Sanctum before, and if he had, he had long forgotten any memories of it by now. "The Sanctum?" he questioned, glancing over at Niko, who had fueled his suspicion with the reluctant tone when mentioning the living building. "If you are so sure that is what's best, than I suppose I have no qualm," T'Chantem added, a hint of a lie in his words.

“It’s kind of a dic…” Niko started to say, but the “k” sound was cut off by Theo slapping the back of her hand across his chest.

“Don’t say dick in front of the prince, Niko, he’ll think you don’t have any manners. It’s our home, 770A Bleecker Street. Parking is a nightmare, but I still don’t recommend the subway as an alternative. Don’t worry, it’s well warded. Niko and I will be there long before you, so can I offer you some tea perhaps? I’ll put the kettle on while we wait. I can also pick you up a churro on the way.”

“I appreciate your hospitality, but being welcomed into your home is already more than I could ask for,” T’Chantem politely refused. He seared the address Theo had recited into his memory, before turning around and heading back to his car, his twin guards following closely behind. “I’ll meet you there,” he called over his shoulder before parroting the address to his driver.

The cousins watched T’Chantem’s envoy drive away. All said that had gone quite well. “Hot damn, Niko! We’re about to have a Prince under our own roof. And not the musical artist formerly known type, though that would have been something too. Come on, skip the subway, I need to get home to change into that corset.” Theo was practically bouncing up and down waiting to be picked up. “To the Sanctum!”

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