Steve gives him a close look, then accepts the package and lays it carefully on a table before opening it. When he does, his eyebrows go up and he looks from the thing in the package to T'Challa, then to Bucky, before reaching in.

A shield. Not like hi – not like the shield Howard had made for him, but a shield nonetheless. He straps it to his left forearm and rotates his wrist, and whistles, low and impressed, as the shield expands, arrow-shaped and gleaming.

"This'll work," he says, and looks back at T'Challa. "Thank you, your highness."