"Thank you for coming, Captain," Helen Cho said.

"Whatever I can do to help," Steve Rogers replied. "T'Challa's a good friend, and he's saved my life more than once. What is it you need? My blood?"

"Not your blood," Helen said delicately, glancing through the glass partition into the sealed enclosure where her patient was kept. "I think I know how to halt, maybe even reverse, the transformation, but administering the treatment is another matter. He is… agitated."

"Can't you restrain him?"

A dark blur slammed against the glass, the hint of some lithe, feminine form clawing deep gashes in the reinforced glass before darting back into the undergrowth. T'Challa had smelled her next potential mate. A feline yowl of frustration rang out.

"We've tried sending in men to… calm the king down. Big guys, special forces. She tears through them like paper.

"'She'?" Steve gasped, shocked at the brief glimpse he'd caught of his transformed friend.

"How else can I phrase this," Helen muttered. She placed a hand on his arm and said pleadingly,"T'Challa is in heat. You're the only man on earth who is strong enough to breed her."

Steve Rogers stared long into the enclosure in brooding silence.

"Surely there's a better way to phrase that," he said.