"You don't get to ask the questions here," Ross tells him. "And anyway: that's a nice fairytale, but Wakanda is a third world country, and you stole all their vibranium."

"I stole – ?" Klaue dissolves into astonished giggles, then lunges forward, shifting the chair he's restrained to by a few inches as Ross sits up and away from him. "All of it?" he growls. "I took a tiny piece of it. They have a mountain full of it. They've been mining it for thousands of years and they still haven't scratched the surface."

It's impossible, of course, but it's a strange story to tell, and Ross frowns, slightly, as he thinks about that arm cannon. "If you don't believe me," Klaue continues, "you ask your friend what his suit is made of. What his claws are made of."

He doesn't want to believe it – and he doesn't – but Ross hasn't gotten to where he is without a healthy dose of skepticism. He turns it over in his head, then glances back at Klaue and leans down to pick up his coffee before standing. "Keep an eye on him," he tells Barnes, and turns for the door, his expression grim