Joy ride (part1): Stealing

liason

He's on her bed, examining the play of sun on his metal fingers, when Shuri enters. He studies the grooves, the plates, the reflections. The way the black seems to eat the light, while he listens to her as she makes her way through the room in the early evening sun, her breath a little heavy from hurrying from her last meeting. The sounds of the princess hanging her jacket over a chair, the wisp of her brushing the sleeves, fill him with a content ease and calm. Only when she turns does he speak up, slowly turning his head her way as he leaves his shining black arm stretched towards the ceiling. "Did you put a tracker in here?"

"Bast's Balls!" Shuri double-takes, apparently only now noticing him; frozen in her tracks towards her walk-in wardrobe. Finally she turns his way with a whisk of her long white dress and puts a hand to her fluttering heart, "how did you even get in?"

Oh. oh, right. Propriety. Uhm. No; what was the word? James frowns and stretches before he folds his new left together with his right, behind his head. Returns to studying the ceiling's built-in lighting and bunching them up until his hands lock to his biceps to form a make-shift pillow. A soft glow from the entire surface above them, like sun-light filtering through tree-tops. What was that word...? ah yes. Privacy. James heaves a tired sigh. Perfect as his jewel of a left is, it is still too hard and unforgiving to make a good pillow.

His real thumb ends up on the shoulder of the left, and he frowns a moment as he runs his nail over the empty, unmarked shoulder. Empty and bare, without his red star. That's fine. Good. He would not want to return to the Russians if he could. Even without how they failed him; even without how they broke his trust, Wakanda is a thousand times better than the old USSR; Shuri a million times better than Yakov. But still it feels empty. An empty, unclaimed arm. He tries to fight the urge, still his thumb from tracing nothing in questing circles.

"Sorry," James finally pulls himself up; sits and swings his feet to the floor, making a bit of a show about getting ready to leave. Laying on a bed without Shuri is pointless anyway. "I can get out, if you prefer."

The princess slowly cocks her head in that kind, regal manner she has when she forgets to be sarcastic. Deflates, then smiles. Kind, tired. A little crooked. "Nah. nah. It's okay. Just. How long have you been here, waiting? How did you even know I'd be back here?"

James grunts non-committedly. He's been in her room, two minutes tops. On the bed, about three seconds. He would have waited in his own rooms, until she'd changed. But, when he got there, some asshole had changed his sheets; aired the place. He can't really sit and stare in happy bliss at a bed where all evidence of their love has been scrubbed away, so James would rather spend every minute with her.

As for how he knew where she was going... "I've been reading my new manual, trying out the new hard-ware."

Mostly, by spying on, and following Shuri. But that part James thinks he might leave out. It was purely for wholesome reasons, of course. Like keeping her safe. Guarding her. James likes the idea of being her secret bodyguard. Sure, she might have a whole country to defend her; the Dora to look out for her. But, they do seem rather blind when it comes to threats already present. Like himself, or even M'Baku. So, one more pair of eyes can't really hurt, can it?

And, honestly, James needs the practice. His new limb has a whole host of intelligence options, like picking up sonar or mapping space with heat perception. All sorts of sensors, making him hum somewhere deep inside, or suddenly taste something almost like strawberries. It's like the castle's come alive in a new sense for him, camera's singing, the toaster calling his name. The walls, the floors, ubiquitous computing around him. The Kimoyo bead bracelets on every man, woman and child.. Everything speaks to him, in a new strange language.