"You’re welcome, m’lord."
"Thank you," She grinned at him as she shook her head, getting back to the matter at hand.. It was wonderful to hear that. Especially when it came out of the mouth of a king. A king!
The grin, however, faded as quickly as it had appeared: “That’s all, I mean, sometimes my drawings come to live, but mostly they stay on the paper and run around. It’s not like I’d be much help out on the field…”
In fact, she’d probably be a hindrance.
"I have a younger brother," She affirmed. "Naze. He’s named after some dude Fa—Forge used to know."
Rory loved the little booger, really, she did, but it wasn’t like—gosh she just knew that he wanted a son who would inherit his powers so he could teach him about tech stuff.
…Just as she knew her mother was—silently—disappointed that Rory hadn’t inherited controlling the weather. (Which was a fact the thirteen-year-old lamented about often.)
Truly, it was wonderful seeing a young girl smile. Their faces could light up a whole continent without even trying. He gave her a slight bow of his head as a reply. It was difficult for him to restrain himself from hugging her.
"You say that like it is something bad," he said with a frown. "Maybe it hasn’t fully bloomed yet, but it has a lot of potential. Think of this: you are battling a demon from the Dark Dimension. What do you do?" T’Challa spread his hands. "Draw a picture of a magic staff defeating it. The possibilities are endless."
Naze.. He felt like he knew that name. Perhaps he would ask his reality’s Forge later. “I’m sure he looks up to you.”
T’Challa wondered to himself if Rory could enter their mutant school. Ah, but she wasn’t staying. He wished she would.