Shuri & Rocket
Shuri
"I do not want to lead."
Shuri is grateful for a moment to breathe because she is certain she has been too close to tears for too long. Having Okoye by her side in this is a comfort, but the general is too good at masking her emotions and right now, that is intimidating.
But even she is surprised that is not the case with the Black Widow.
"It's normal to feel that way, Shuri. And I know you know it's okay to miss your brother."
Natasha takes a drink from the glass Shuri offered her when they walked in. They are sitting together at a table in her suite and while Shuri wishes she could be alone to grieve, she simultaneously wishes that she is never alone again. She is terrified of the thought, of not knowing what might happen when she does not have her eyes on anyone.
"He spoke highly of you," she tells Natasha, remembering too easily to use the past tense. "He did not do that often."
"He strikes me as the reserved type," Natasha replies. "Probably why I liked him."
Shuri smiles at this, her thoughts lingering on T'Challa and the King he had become. She is so proud of him.
"You and the rest of the Avengers are welcome as long as you need," she adds, wanting to steer away from wallowing in those thoughts. It’s why she’s grateful for the presence of the Avengers, even when she senses they all seem to share some guilt over wishing to remain in Wakanda.
She understands. Their base is not the stronghold it once was, particularly without the likes of Tony Stark. She understands that Wakanda is, frankly, the world’s best hope.
"For now, we are dividing responsibility. M'Baku assures me he is prepared to handle our nation's recovery. I trust him in this, and that allows me to assist you."
Natasha's smile is a little thin and Shuri suspects she's concerned. Perhaps because of her age.
"We don't want to run Wakanda to the ground," Natasha says, confirming the thought. "You've already been incredibly generous."
"My brother wished to bring Wakanda to the forefront," Shuri tells her, a little more passionately than she intends. "Now the world needs us more than ever. I will not allow us to turn away from that responsibility."
And it's true. She realizes that now, maybe for the first time. That unnameable thing that has been motivating her since Okoye shook her back to consciousness to tell her of the horrors that have happened. Why she has not yet collapsed, not yet been willing to yield her time.
T'Challa's mission to make Wakanda better — to forge a new destiny — that is what she admired the most. And if she is to rule in his stead, it is no question at all. She must carry out that mission.
Rocket
The obnoxiously loud knock has to be coming from only one person and it's for the best, because Rocket is pretty sure he's ready to blast anyone else who might come through that door.
"Come on in, Thor. I'm decent."
By decent, he means he's clothed now. He has finally had the chance to shower and he's pulled on his own clothes again, having decided that whatever the Terrans had given him was just too ridiculous and loose-fitting.
Although he likes the beads their Princess passed him. He expects he’ll be fiddling with that tech for a good while.
The Asgardian lets himself in and Rocket gets a good look at the eye he'd given him before plopping himself down unceremoniously on the bed.
"Pretty nice digs, I gotta say."
"The Wakandans have treated you well so far, I hope?" Thor doesn't sit, which seems typical of the overgrown god. He wanders by the big window instead.
"Weirdly enough, yeah," Rocket answers him. "Who knew Terrans actually had manners? Always suspected Quill was a dud."
"This place is not like many others," Thor replies -- a little cryptically, Rocket thinks. He's watched this guy go suicidal over an axe and subsequently tear up a battlefield. He's really not sure what to think about him.
Except that he knows he is hurting, that he's lost everything. Rocket wonders if being on this planet changes that thought for him. He looks a little more at home than Rocket expected.
"So what's the skinny from your friends?" He asks. "Anyone else we need to locate?"
The mission that Rogers gave them is interesting, at least, and it will keep him busy. Terran technology leaves a lot to be desired and Rocket prefers that challenge over...everything else.
"Yes, we will need to head back out soon," Thor promises. "But I wish to speak with you first."
"No need to be so grandiose," Rocket tells him, his scowl masking his wariness. "What's up?"
"Your friends," Thor intones. "The ones we left on your ship. Your crew."
His family. Rocket doesn't correct Thor out loud, but he can't help his thoughts. He sighs.
"My bet is that Quill tried to sack Gamora on the head to convince her not to take the suicide mission and the four of them are flying around clueless and fighting each other. As usual."
Thor's face is grave at his words and Rocket almost regrets saying them for a moment, not knowing what the big man is going to say.
"I fear you must prepare yourself for the worst, Rocket."
No 'Rabbit,' then. Rocket says nothing.
"I will help you locate your ship," Thor continues. "But considering the damage we have seen here on Earth, we cannot assume anything."
He's using the Terran word. Rocket remembers Thor referring to this planet as 'Midgard' before, and most everyone else he knows calls it Terra. Only Quill calls it Earth, and even then, not always.
"Look," He begins, bracing himself. "You may be all about the doom and gloom of these parts, but me? I'm not about to wring my hands over stuff I don't know. You don't know the Guardians. We survive. That's just what we do."
Except Groot.
Rocket suddenly feels sick, thinking about Groot. How he called out to him, terrified.
"Dad."
There are real tears threatening to overtake him again. He holds them back defiantly.
Thor turns to him and Rocket recognizes a painful empathy in his face. It reminds him of Yondu, somehow, and Rocket has to force himself to stay in control.
"I believe you; your people seem hardy and valiant."
"That's right."
Thor smiles. "Come. Let's commandeer another hovercraft."