Mavuika listened, silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled gently.
"Since you have a way..." Mavuika nodded: "Then help me divert everyone's attention."
He really didn't know much about public opinion.
If it continued to ferment like this, going out in the future would inevitably lead to being watched and questioned by people, which would indeed cause a significant impact on his daily schedule.
Fury nodded: "Understood."
He reached into his inner pocket, took out his phone, and pressed a shortcut key.
In less than three seconds, the call was connected.
"Coulson." Fury said directly.
A gentle, middle-aged male voice came from the other end of the line: "Director, please instruct."
"Initiate the public opinion response plan for the Harlem incident," Fury said. "Plan B. Create at least three trending topics to suppress the discussion about the mysterious woman."
"Understood." Coulson's voice had no fluctuation, as if he had done this countless times.
Fury hung up the phone and put it back into his inner pocket.
He looked at Mavuika: "Just wait a moment."
The courtyard quieted down.
Morning light filtered through the gaps in the parasol, casting dappled light spots on the table.
The scent of rosemary was faint, and bird chirps could occasionally be heard from afar.
Fury's gaze fell on the flower bed behind Mavuika.
Those flowers were blooming beautifully; it wasn't the state of barely surviving that ordinary families' plants had, but a true, vigorous vitality.
"These flowers..." Fury started: "Did you plant them yourself?"
Mavuika looked in the direction of his gaze, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.
"Yes," he said. "The seeds were given by Howard and Maria, over a decade ago, and I've been planting them ever since."
Fury was silent for a moment.
"You like Earth very much," Fury said, not as a question, but as a statement.
Mavuika turned back to look at him.
"Yes," he said, his tone calm. "I like it very much."
Then Fury's phone rang. He picked it up, glanced at it, and handed it to Mavuika.
He picked it up, looked at it, and raised an eyebrow slightly.
"The effect is this fast?"
On the trending list, the #sun woman tag had already dropped from first place to sixth.
Replacing it were #xxx cheating, #Senator soliciting prostitutes, #Unemployment rate data interpretation... and a series of other new topics.
The heat was rising rapidly, and the direction of netizens' discussions was gradually being diverted.
Fury's expression did not change at all, as if all of this was within his expectations.
"Coulson has always been quick to act," he said.
Mavuika put down the phone and thanked him with a smile: "Thank you."
Facing Mavuika's thanks, Fury waved his hand gently, his tone indifferent and peaceful: "It was just a small effort; Your Highness need not take it to heart."
He did not strike while the iron was hot to mention S.H.I.E.L.D.'s plans, nor did he touch upon the Avengers initiative at all; he just chatted with Mavuika about everyday life.
He asked if he was used to life on Earth, if the flowers in the courtyard were easy to care for, his tone relaxed and casual, as if an ordinary old friend had just dropped by for a visit.
After chatting for only a moment, Fury took the initiative to stand up and say goodbye, his demeanor appropriate and measured: "I've disturbed Your Highness for a long time; we shall take our leave now, so as not to delay your rest."
Mavuika did not press them to stay, smiling as he stood up to see them to the Villa gate, waving goodbye: "Take care, come by again when you have time."
When Fury and Natasha walked out of the apartment gate, a flock of pigeons happened to fly over from the opposite roof, their wings shimmering with a grayish-white luster in the sunlight.
A queue had formed in front of the coffee shop at the street corner, with white-collar workers in suits and freelancers clutching computers mixed together, waiting to buy breakfast coffee.
A courier on a bicycle whizzed past them, the basket full of packages.
The morning in New York was as noisy and ordinary as ever.
Fury stood on the steps in front of the Villa and looked up at the sky. It was very blue, as if freshly washed, with a few wisps of white clouds hanging lazily on the horizon, motionless.
He took a deep breath and then walked down the steps.
Natasha followed behind him, maintaining her usual silence, until they turned the corner and walked to the black sedan parked on the side of the road.
Fury opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat.
Natasha got into the car from the other side and closed the door.
The engine started, and the noise outside was cut off by the soundproof glass, leaving only the low hum of the engine and the sound of airflow from the air conditioning vents.
Fury released the handbrake and slowly drove the car into the traffic.
The car moved slowly on the crowded streets of Manhattan, stop-and-go, just like the hundreds of thousands of other cars around, submerged in the daily hustle and bustle of this city that never sleeps.
Until they drove onto the West Side Highway, the traffic finally smoothed out. The Hudson River spread out on the right, the water shimmering, with a few cargo ships slowly heading into the distance.
Natasha finally spoke.
"Director."
Fury did not turn his head, just gave a soft "Hmm."
Natasha looked at him. There wasn't much expression on that dark side profile, his one eye focused on the road conditions ahead, his hands on the steering wheel steady and calm.
"Coming here so solemnly..." Natasha asked: "And now just leaving like this?"
The corners of Fury's mouth moved slightly, an almost imperceptible curve.
"Otherwise what?" he asked in return.
Natasha was silent for two seconds, organizing her words.
"You've been preparing for over a decade, enduring and observing for so long, and finally managed to establish face-to-face contact with him, yet you chose to say nothing? Now that you finally have the chance to make formal contact, and you came in person, you just chatted about watering flowers and the news, and then... left?"
She looked at Fury. Natasha had followed Fury for many years and knew deeply that this Director was deep-thinking and decisive. Yet now, facing a key figure like Mavuika, he didn't mention the core objective at all?
"This doesn't seem like your style, Director."
Fury was silent for a while.
The car continued to move forward, the Hudson River flowing on their right, New Jersey on the other side of the river glowing with a grayish light in the sunlight.
Then Fury smiled gently.
"What do you think I should have said today?" he asked.
Natasha thought for a moment.
"A lot," she said.
"Invite him to join the Avengers initiative, at least test his attitude towards this matter, or establish a formal channel of contact with him, figure out his attitude towards Earth, and Asgard's attitude towards Earth..."
Fury listened and nodded.
"You're right," he said. "I did think about a lot, how to bring it up, how to test, how to make him like us without offending him, so he would be willing to help when necessary."
He paused.
"But after seeing him, I changed my mind."
Fury didn't come today to "achieve something," but to "leave a good impression."
He didn't mention the Avengers initiative, didn't mention S.H.I.E.L.D.'s requests, didn't mention anything that required Mavuika's help.