The dinner was fancy, all right. Modern fancy. With us all dressed up in suits and pretty dresses. But those dressed were simple, shiny, just beneath the knees. The jewellery was simple, maybe pearls, or glittery crystals.

What the food was concerned; luxurious meats with all kinds of sauces, salads, different forms of potatoes and various side-dishes. It all felt strange to me. Actually, I would have preferred it if they had chosen something that wouldn't have made me feel like they were showing off, or trying to show they could be sophisticated. Because fancy food requires fancy talking, which I am not very good at.
'Princess, you are looking so pretty!' Again, the motherly and overly-enthusiastic way she approached me made me uneasy. This was almost the opposite of how I was used to being treated. Awkward smiling was basically my only reaction to this.
'I- Thank you, Miss Johnson. I must say, your diner room looks very beautiful.' Before sitting down, I corrected my pearly gold dress. After I sat down, I unfolded my napkin and put it on my lap. Unfolding a piece of cloth usually doesn't take that much time, but I desperately tried to avoid eye contact of any kind.
When I finally did look up, Miss Johnson was ready to introduce her family proudly.
'This is my husband, David Johnson,' the president nodded, looking at me rather oddly. Politely, I nodded back. 'And this is our son, Daniel.' The boy – though I probably shouldn't call him a boy, as he was about my age or even older – was a rather fine looking young man, with an intelligent face and an air of privilege and wealth.
'It's an honour to meet you both, Mr President, Daniel.'

Having completed all formalities (which, alas, included their condolences; thus awkwardness), the family said a prayer before dinner, and we got started.
Admittedly, it was very good food. Delicious, outstanding, high quality. The conversation… not so much.
Stumbling block number one: their indecision on how to address me. Perhaps they used highness a couple times, but mostly they just tried to get my attention in indirect ways, just saying things like: "and what do you think?".
The second stumbling block, was my almost complete inability to take part in chit-chat. There was one simple explanation: we came from two completely different worlds. Examples:
'I heard you came from college, Daniel?' This was me trying to sound interested.
'O, yes, I am working on getting a degree in civil engineering. Do you go to college?'
'Uhm, well, I used to consider some kind of secondary education, but I don't think that will be possible.'
'O.'

Yes, perfect reaction: "Oh". Awkwardness. Trying really hard to avoid eye contact. Using the slightest of movements to cut a piece of chicken, so I could bring it subtly to my mouth with my fork. Chewing carefully. Sliding my gaze around the room.
All right, time for attempt number two:
'I love your house, Miss Johnson.'
'Thank you dear.' The first lady, too, seemed relieved someone had broken the silence.
'Well, it's not really our house, though. Only for eight years.' The heaviest, most awkward silence yet followed. Very slowly I looked up from my plate. Daniel was looking at me. Was that meant as some kind of insult or accusation? 'I bet it is nothing compared with your palace.'
Now a smile followed, as if that was some kind of compliment, or something that would make me feel better.
'I,' sweat trickled down my forehead. Maybe the heating systems were broken. 'It's not really my palace. it's more like property of the country.' Actually the state, which consequently meant me.
'Cool.' Right. I wished he would look away. I smiled. Suddenly my chicken was very interesting. My fingers clamped around the silverware. It used to be cold - now it was warm and sweaty.
What had T'Challa said again? That's right, hobbies. Time to bring out the fishing card.
'Mr President, I heard you are quite fond of fishing?'

Lo and behold it worked. It was like I nudged a small of ice and snow of a mountain, and could sit back and relax as it grew and grew. Until it was big enough that everyone had forgotten all that had happened before. Except for me, of course. I spend the remaining minutes reliving the awkwardness of the past conversations.

At the end of the night, my face was glowing with embarrassment. It was so bad, that I didn't even dare look one of the guards in their eyes - not even Barnes. It may seem like they were motionless statues, but I was fully aware that they judged me just like all the other people in the room.
Anyway. What was to be learnt from this all? That the president really, really loved fishing. Wait, no. That's not correct. That I am terrible at normal conversations.