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ONE LOOK AT HIM AND ZAMILE FELT LIKE SHIT.
T'Challa's eyes were focused on some place on the floor, his back slouched as his forearms rested on his knees. Zamile wanted to say something comforting and wise, but nothing would come to mind. She was speechless, and decided that no words were better than hasty apologies.
Zamile never was that great with emotions. She learned at an early age, after the deaths of her parents, to block herself off from feelings like sadness, forcing her to give up the ability to empathize with others. It wasn't her fault; it was a process that she developed as an invisible shield as she grew older.
So instead of giving her condolences, she switched over to her more reasonable side. "Do they know who did it?"
T'Challa's jaw visibly clenched hard, as his knuckled turned paler. "They are saying that it was a man named James Buchanan Barnes. They don't know where he is now."
Zamile noticed how his muscles were taut, as if he were to spring out of his seat at any moment. She could practically feel the rage radiating off of him through the holographic call, rage that he was trying really hard to contain.
While she wasn't the emotional one, T'Challa surely was. He was kind, bless his heart, but sometimes he became overly passionate. Ever since they were children in the same school, T'Challa was always the one who had a hard time making the tough decisions, while Zamile could execute them without batting an eye. His mother always pointed out how her son had a big heart, and how a good leader needed to care about what he or she was doing.
But in this moment, Zamile was fearful. Another thing that she knew about T'Challa was that when he had his sights set on something, he would never let it go. She knew that he wanted to go after this man for killing his father, and Zamile could very well understand that. But She couldn't let him; she knew where this path would lead. He would seek revenge and never rest until he got it. It would destroy him. She couldn't let that happen.
"T'Challa, you have to let the authorities-"
"No" T'Challa said, quietly but defiantly. "I can't."
"T'Challa" she said more sternly this time, making him look up at her. "You cannot make this personal."
"It already is personal, Zamile" he retorted angrily. "He killed my father! Right in front of me, and I could not do anything to stop him. The least I can do is avenge his death."
"You can't" she responded, more as an order than a suggestion.
"You of all people should understand" T'Challa pointed out. "If the man who killed your parents stood near you right now, would you not do the same?"
