“We have been dancing about this long enough.” M’Baku leans in close, sets his hand on the wall beside T’Challa’s head to keep him in place. The narrow alcove in the wall conceals them from the others passing in the adjacent hall, but just barely. “Let us speak plainly now, my king.”
For a heartbeat, T’Challa allows himself a wild, burning hope.
Bookmarked by KiraRedfox
31 Aug 2018