Joy ride (part1): Stealing

breakfast

Shuri's still setting up in the private brunch room when James is let inside by her Dora guards. Scrubbed clean and looking fresh in a white shirt and light jeans, and a lot healthier after what must have been his first solid night of sleep in a long while. With a quick glance at her beads Shuri sees he's early but not overly so, which means the third person invited is late. And that's odd, because her new bff is punctual to a fault. Still, Shuri covers her surprise, stepping his way with a welcoming smile. "Morning, Barnes."

He answers with his own tug of the lips, though there's a hint of a question in there. And as he wonders her way Shuri is again caught by how normal he seems. Almost average. "Good morning, Princess." Always just a little too much respect, but watered down by a royal helping of familiarity. "What's this then? Don't have to get creative on my account. I'm not traumatized by tables or anything."

"Hardly," she drawls right back, play-mocking his accent. Her earth red long shirt waves around her palms as she gestures at the frilled cushions on the floor, arranged around a low table piled with food. Rich gold accents in fruits and breads, dark meats and white and red sauces. It's a feast for the eyes and nose already, she thinks; glittering in the morning sun. "This happens to be an authentic traditional breakfast arrangement." The excuse sounds a little weak in her own ear, so she adds. "I thought you'd be interested in our culture."

He still looks doubtful, but approaches when she arches an eyebrow. And, after her example, kneels down on one of the many pillows almost gracefully. It's baffling, how he moves through a room somehow looking like he belongs without any of the presumptuous belonging-like-he-owns-the-place. Just someone there; someone who should be there and is of no notice; whose absence would draw more eyes. The fact that he's the first white man ever welcomed here, the fact that she knows he's big and built like bricks, the fact that a one-armed man sticks out.. None of that seems to register when he moves. Odd.

No; not odd. It's a carefully crafted image. She knows. A mirage built by evil people to hide a killer. Of course, she does not blame this man. But, it keeps nagging at her. She brings a freshly manicured thumbnail to her mouth, ruining a Dora-friend's hard work as she wonders: is he doing it on purpose? Blending? Belonging? Presenting nothing out of the ordinary? Catering to expectations? Or, it is ingrained at this point, as natural as breathing...

He does it again. Cougs, mildly. Getting her attention, meeting her eyes halfway between demur and flirting. "Is this a breakfast date then, Princess? I am flattered. But, surely..."

"I have better things to do? Oh, I would. But it's not just a breakfast date." She pauses, shakes her head then trails off in a narrowing of eyes, trying to phrase it right. Because with just the two of them, it really does seem like some sort of date. And that's.. wrong.. Isn't it? Unprofessional. Though, she usually gives zero fuck about what others think. Still, she finds herself bunching up the excess fabric of the shirt in her fists at her knees, pushing the deep reds against the burnt umber pants. Enjoying the textures, the way the red and brown play off each other in light and shade. No, right now she'd like to come off as professional. Finally, she meets his expectant gaze. "No, this is work. I need to map your taste buds."

There's an adorable little crease between his eyebrows that she already noticed of course, staring at his frozen face while she worked on the trigger words. It deepens just a fraction when he considers, just shy of embarrassment. "Mapping my.."

Aaand. That's enough of that. Seriously girl! She chastises herself. The guy is like, old enough to be your.. Well, five-generations removed grandpa. Though, well, you wouldn't say that to look at him. Thirty? Thirty-five? She's not good at guessing. Aren't white guys bald by that age? Probably. So, not old like twice-her-age-old or anything. Nope. Stop Shuri, Stop! "Don't hurt your just-defrosted brain over figuring it out. I'm just trying to fit all those groovy new arm sensors on something except pain reception."