Summary:It's a lazy sunday afternoon - because T'Challa has enforced it Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It's sunday, the most day that people take to rest and recover for the coming week. For once, Mari's decided to take it easy and stay home. Lunch had been delivered and finished an hour or so ago and now, the ex-model is resting weary and battered muscles in her hot tub.
It's a wonderful view of the city from up here, as the dark skinned woman soaks. She's still got bruises and scrapes from the altercation at Harry's yesterday but it hasn't dipped her spirits any.
That might be, in part, due to the glass of sparkling white that rests in easy reach.
T'Challa comes back from where he'd been deeper in the house with a platter of cheese and olives to go with the wine, a bottle of which is chilling by the waterside. If ever there was a reason for the phrase 'this is the life', it is this right here.
"This feels nice does it not? Does a tired body and a tired mind good." He slides into the water next to her. Luxury is not necessary by definition. But BOY is it nice.
"Even nicer to be spoiled like this." Mari murmurs, taking an olive and popping it into her mouth as she shifts slightly to make room for the Wakandan.
"Have I told you what a good idea this was?" She had a couple of times today. T'Challa had insisted she spend the day with him - relaxing. It might have been the only way he could ensure the ex-model didn't go out and find trouble.
Reaching over and taking another olive, Mari holds that one to T'Challa's lips. "These are good."
"I am good for that. Spoiling you." T'Challa smiles and then takes the offered olive. "And see how well it works out? Now I am being fed olvies by a Nubian goddess."
The Prince of Wakanda certainly can be quite charming and he's never been anything but complimentary or flattering of Mari's looks.
"I think, to be honest, you could use more days when you are spoiled. You beat yourself up quite a lot."
"You are indeed, T'Challa." Mari murmurs, letting her fingers linger at his lips a moment before offering him another one. "I could get used to this, you know…."
What this is, she doesn't say, but her eyes hold his as she feeds him another olive. "Nubian goddess? I would think not a goddess, but it's sweet of you to say." Pausing just a moment to take her glass and sip from it, before offering it to him.
"Come now, T'Challa. I don't beat myself out, there's better people out there that do it for me." She's not arguing.
"I might be able to get used to this as well…" T'Challa says with a grin. The heat is spreading through his limbs, the water warming him. He leans back and half sits, half floats as he takes the next olive.
"You command spirits and can run with the lions. That qualifies you for at least demigoddess I should think." He's probably not wrong, had they lived in another era. Or among more supersitious people.
"Oh? Perhaps you should give them some time off then. You put yourself through a lot Mari. And I would not mind someone to regularly use this hot tub with…"
"Well, if we both do." Mari watches, happy to feed T'Challa olives and cheese and sips of drink from her glass. She's quite … familiar … in his company.
"What would your people think, T'Challa, had they met me? A goddess or demoness with designs on their prince?" she sighs though "My mother, from what I can remember, was honoured in our village. Revered. I understand my grandmother and her mother were too. Probably so for all the women who bore the pendant before me."
She chuckles though at his next comment and settles in beside the Wakandan prince, their sides touching "Where do you think you could find someone to do that with? Use your hot tub regularly?"
"My people would have been suspicious at first because you were a foreigner and my people are a suspicious kind. But when they had learned that you were descended from ancient allies and that you wielded a power all your own, I think they would have come to view you as a fitting companion at the very least." Perhaps a suitable match but he doesn't want to push it quite that far lest it be unwelcome.
"Welllllll… I happen to know a fashion designer who I understand likes hot tubs and often has aches and bruises from leading an active and slightly reckless lifestyle…" His smile is teasing. And he takes another olive before picking one up and feeding it to her.
Mari chuckles, letting the water bouy her as they sit there. "You don't play fair, T'Challa. I was teasing and you sound like you're serious." There's a sidelong glance at the Princes profile. He might the feeling she's trying to judge how much teasing is involved in his statement.
"A fashion designer hmmm? That you'd like to spend more time with. More than you do?" Taking the olive, her lips brush his fingers and Mari looks up. "And now I have a Prince feeding me by hand."
"You do. The height of luxury is it not? How many in your circles have been fed by a prince?" T'Challa clearly IS teasing at least a little bit but it's likely that nothing he has said is untrue. Still all in light fun, but… honest. Real. Not just saying things to say them.
"And yes. Someone I would like to spend more time with than I presently do. Do you think, in your infinite expertise, that this might be possible?"
"I'll wager none. And certainly not a royal who commands the dead." Mari answers with a chuckle. "Certainly none that can hop them around the planet with a blink of an eye. At least, none that are saying anyway." Not that Mari is either.
That's … personal. For T'Challa. Something he shared with her and she'd never betray his confidence like that.
"In my infinite expertise, I would have to say you'd need to ask the woman directly but I think she might be ammenable to such an arrangement. I think … she'd like it very much, in fact. You're a kind man, T'Challa. Honorable and handsome. Why wouldn't she want want to spend more time with you."
"You know the media will talk and speculate, though. And your people, your council, won't they want to know what you intend? Surely, a man of your standing and age … would be looked to to … continue the family name."
"Your media will speculate. My media will speculate. The council will speculate. My people will speculate." T'Challa laughs. "But do you know one of the things about being a prince and not a king in the land of the living?" He pauses to take another sip of wine and let that grin flash.
"No one expects me to return the council's calls." He says that sort of conspiratorially.
"It would be a matter of import to my family yes, and my people but as our monarchy is not strictly speaking hereditary it is less of an issue than you may otherwise think. And that being said…"
He shifts to sit up and lean over to Mari. "I would be honored if you would grant me the privilege of spending more time with you."
Mari chuckles as T'Challa leans over her, letting her back rest against the tub as she gazes up him. Her palm comes to rest on his chest, just over his heart. "I would be honoured to spend more time with you, T'Challa." She murmurs.
"You may not have to return your councils calls, but I imagine they will find a way to speak with you. We both have responsibilities you and I but perhaps we can find something between us…"
"If the media is going to speculate, we should give them something to speculate about don't you think?" There's a twinkle in the ex-models eyes as she speaks. Full of mischief.
"I think that we should make them earn their keep yes." T'Challa's eyes are equally mirthful and equally mischievous. He gets perhaps just a little bit daring and kisses Mari on the cheek. Then offers her another bit of cheese.
"That WILL mean you'll have to suffer coming to my house a bit more, I should warn you." Great hardship that it is. He knows, he knows. She's quite brave.
"Then we shall." Mari laughs as T'Challa kisses her cheek, returning the gesture herself. "It is something I will enjoy doing immensely."
Oh. Cheese. A nice piece of blue this time.
"I'm sure I can bear the burden. But it also means you'll be coming to my place as well…" Settling back next to the dark skinned man, Mari rests her head against his shoulder. "Now …. about your party. I've been thinking …"
"I shall try to soldier on having to visit your luxury apartment in Hell's Kitchen." T'Challa laughs. "We all have our crosses to bear." They do. But this is not one of them. This will be a reward for doing all of the things that need to be done and coming back in one piece.
And a comfort on those occasions when they come back in slightly less than one piece.
"Yes, the party. You have some thoughts on how to deal with our guest of honor?"
"Yes you must, with my inferior hot tub and much smaller apartment." Mari's laughter bubbles out. "How on earth will you cope?" But she sobers as she thinks on his question.
"Perhaps. We need to make me vulnerable. Let Rivera think that I'm ripe to take a swipe at. A few encounters with her where she bests me will aid that. On the night though …"
T'Challa can see she's thinking, he might want to stop that going to far on this lazy Sunday afternoon.
"… We need her to confront me, so we can spring the trap. I'm thinking rumours that McCabe has … let investors or buyers down …"
"That might pose a danger to your actual business if you let it get out of hand." T'Challa muses. "But if done carefully it could work. Something about you personally perhaps. That the board is pushing you to abandon the Vixen ID. Maybe that she can drive a wedge between you if she makes you use your power and fight."
The Prince considers for a few moments and then smiles. "It has potential. But that is potential we can deal with tomorrow. Right now there is wine and excellent food and warm water. Well, unless you would prefer cool water. That is right over there."
"My business is at risk with what Rivera has done and will do if I don't stop her." Mari points out. T'Challa isn't wrong and they need to consider it.
She laughs as he changes the subject though. "Wine and the pool and a rather handsome prince who wants my attention. What could be better?" Mari pushes off the wall and draws T'Challa with her.
It's going to be a wonderful evening.