Close up on NAMOR.
NAMOR: You came here expecting some playful back and forth.
Fixed panel. Namor, bored.
NAMOR: I’m busy, so I’ll save you the trouble.
NAMOR: I did it.
Wide panel; We’re in a meeting room somewhere in Atlantis. The entire room is made of a strange, see through material. Looking outside it’s apparent we’re somewhere hundreds of feet beneath the ocean.
In the room itself is a table, Namor at one end, STORM at the other. Some ATLANTEAN GUARDS also dot the room. Storm is not in her X-Men uniform, but a functional black suit that would look at home on a Navy Seal.
STORM: I know. But that Roxxon rig was in Genoshan waters.
STORM: We may be broken and battered, but we are rebuilding and we will not tolerate this kind of aggression.
Back on Namor, he gestures his hands to indicate their surroundings.
NAMOR: Look where you are. You do not frighten me Ororo Munroe.
Angle on Storm, not taken in by Namor’s arrogance.
STORM: I could rip the air from your gills right now.
On Storm still, now standing up as if ready to leave.
STORM: I could bring typhoons and disasters down on this kingdom by merely thinking about it.
STORM: So, I advise you to look where you are, Namor McKenzie.
Tight on Namor, not amused.
On Namor, breaking out into a predatory smile.
NAMOR: My mistake Madam President.