"Hang back a moment, Captain," T'Challa advises, then strolls to the lowering ramp of the jet, hands clasped behind his back, and nods to the descending figure. She seems hardly more than a girl, he notes; but he has known too many fearsome Dora Milajie to be fooled by her round cheeks and innocent face.

"Yelena Belova," he greets her. "You are most welcome. Thank you for joining us."

She gives him a sharp, assessing look, then purses her lips and blows out a breath. "Fine," she says, shortly. "But next time maybe you can ride with him." She jerks a thumb back at the interior of the plane and rolls her eyes in a way that makes T'Challa think abruptly of Shuri. "Talk, talk, talk. So many questions. 'Who are you?' 'Why did they ask for you?' 'Will you stop pressing buttons before we crash and die?'"

She blows a raspberry and flips a hand. "Tedious. Oh, there is my sister – Natasha!" she yells, waving an arm above her head and jogging past T'Challa, who watches her with bemusement until he hears – "Natasha?"

Everett Ross clambers down to the ground, looking drained and confused. T'Challa steps forward, smoothly. "Welcome, Agent Ross," he says, as calmly as if he were receiving his friend at the Citadel.

"Thank you for coming."