[Whatever (small) part of her that had been considering the truth immediately shuts down. Through her shock, one thought remains clear, driven by fear: he can't know. If she had feared Chat Noir would be disappointed by her civilian self, it's doubly true for the boy standing in front of her now. Adrien. Who she's been crushing on since he joined their class.
Inwardly, she shrinks away from the rejection--inevitably given if she reveals herself--and slams the walls back in place. Her eyes find a spot on the ground even as her fingers twist together nervously.]
H-hey. Ladybug--she said. She said you were injured in the akuma attack. [Her words tumble out of her mouth, quiet and disjointed. At least that hasn't changed, though a part of her is still reeling from trying to match Adrien to Chat and Chat to Adrien. They're like pieces of a puzzle that aren't fitting together right, and Marinette knows she has a lot of thinking to do tonight. She has to make sense of this somehow. She has to if she's ever going to face Adrien and Chat again.
Marinette breathes in, forcing herself to pretend she's Ladybug talking to Chat (it's technically true, isn't it?) and the words flow a little more easily. It does nothing to erase the bitter taste of the lies on her tongue, though.]
She couldn't stay, but she didn't want to leave you while you were hurt. [Another deep breath.] I...I can help you clean up if you want?
[ yes. yes, it's not that simple, he just wouldn't be able to... know her that easily through a mistake— his mistake, though he can never quite consider his jumping into the fray to make sure she's unharmed a mistake.
inside, there's unwilling deliberations. remember the history book? ladybug's "secret" mission when you had to protect marinette? she's never there but at the same time always there, in the same way you are— all things he shuts down immediately. he'd sworn he wouldn't wonder too hard about it; ladybug didn't want him to wonder.
and if she wasn't telling him now, she still didn't want him to know, did he? she couldn't stay.
there's that familiar disappointment bubbling in his chest, but it's fair, it's her choice. marinette is here, remember, so he gathers the slivers of chat. focuses on her. on the now. ]
I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh? [ hhhow is he supposed to act? like adrien, out of comfort? chat, because that's the truth? beyond the question of ladybug, there's a liberation here now that someone knows, even through the discomfort that the no strings attached freedom's clicking with a part of his very rigid lifestyle (that's a risk, isn't it? it's always a risk in these cases, for marinette too). still, it's the former that gets the shadow of a: ] Princess.
[ out of his mouth, before he even knows what he's doing. it's not quite as strong as it would've been with the black mask. his smile is much more adrien than chat at the moment, too, when he finally wipes the carefully pensive look on his face and replaces it with something reassuring. ]
... Sorry, that was probably— [ weird as hell? too much too soon? shoving this giant everything on her with no warning? just move on from that. adrien shakes his head. probably a mistake, but he ignores the consequences. ] —I mean, thanks for the offer. Would that be okay? If it's not too much trouble. I can't really go home like this.
[ gabriel agreste would never let him out of the house again. ]
[Princess. Wow, it's weird hearing Chat's words from Adrien's mouth, so completely has she separated the two of them in her mind. But there really is no denying it now. Marinette's hands twist together even more as she forces herself to look up, though she still avoids his eyes. She's always been terrible at hiding things, and there's no way she can disguise the conflict she's feeling from Adrien.]
I-it's okay. I won't--tell anyone. [With the stuttering and the pauses, it doesn't sound half as convincing as she'd hoped. What am I doing? This is Chat I'm talking to. Get a grip! Marinette squares her shoulders, forces her voice to stop shaking so much.] I won't tell anyone. I promise.
[Before she can lose the burst of determination, Marinette studies him critically, gaze lingering on the blood in his hair.] Patching you up isn't a problem. Where else are you injured?
[ that almost nets marinette a laugh, though it all comes out as an awkward chuckle. he's still not entirely comfortable, and he's still not entirely certain what to do about this... but he supposes if anyone was to find out, marinette was one of those that were... fine. marinette was good.
idly, he wonders what she's thinking—this is probably odd for her. weird. beyond understanding, and he gets that. muted adrien agreste is about as far from chat noir as it gets; that's exactly what he aims for. ]
... That means a lot. [ genuinely. at her question a hand goes up to the back of his head, touching the injury there tentatively (with a small wince). ] It's just— my head, I think.
[ both physically and mentally. magic suits and all meant injuries anywhere else were pretty hard to get, so at least he doesn't have bruises to go with this headache. ]
Okay. [Seeing the flinch as he touched the injury snaps everything into focus. The concern washes away the nervousness, her stutter all but gone when she speaks up again.] I need to clean the blood away first before I apply medicine.
Come on, you can-- [She breaks off abruptly, the confident, authoritative tone suddenly disappearing in a squeak. A flash of horror on her face is all he's able to catch before she turns away.
Oh no. The pictures. She got so caught up in the conversation, she'd forgotten one very important fact: Adrien's face is plastered everywhere in her room. Panicking, Marinette practically throws herself at the trapdoor she was about to lead him through.]
Be right back! [It's not quite an undignified yelp, but it might as well be. She pauses as she's lowering herself down and glowers at him with all the ferocity she can manage.] And don't you dare peek!
[She slams the trapdoor shut and becomes a whirlwind of action, pulling down the glossy posters as quickly as she can.]
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don't be it's great ;o;
Inwardly, she shrinks away from the rejection--inevitably given if she reveals herself--and slams the walls back in place. Her eyes find a spot on the ground even as her fingers twist together nervously.]
H-hey. Ladybug--she said. She said you were injured in the akuma attack. [Her words tumble out of her mouth, quiet and disjointed. At least that hasn't changed, though a part of her is still reeling from trying to match Adrien to Chat and Chat to Adrien. They're like pieces of a puzzle that aren't fitting together right, and Marinette knows she has a lot of thinking to do tonight. She has to make sense of this somehow. She has to if she's ever going to face Adrien and Chat again.
Marinette breathes in, forcing herself to pretend she's Ladybug talking to Chat (it's technically true, isn't it?) and the words flow a little more easily. It does nothing to erase the bitter taste of the lies on her tongue, though.]
She couldn't stay, but she didn't want to leave you while you were hurt. [Another deep breath.] I...I can help you clean up if you want?
you're greater aaaa
inside, there's unwilling deliberations. remember the history book? ladybug's "secret" mission when you had to protect marinette? she's never there but at the same time always there, in the same way you are— all things he shuts down immediately. he'd sworn he wouldn't wonder too hard about it; ladybug didn't want him to wonder.
and if she wasn't telling him now, she still didn't want him to know, did he? she couldn't stay.
there's that familiar disappointment bubbling in his chest, but it's fair, it's her choice. marinette is here, remember, so he gathers the slivers of chat. focuses on her. on the now. ]
I guess the cat's out of the bag, huh? [ hhhow is he supposed to act? like adrien, out of comfort? chat, because that's the truth? beyond the question of ladybug, there's a liberation here now that someone knows, even through the discomfort that the no strings attached freedom's clicking with a part of his very rigid lifestyle (that's a risk, isn't it? it's always a risk in these cases, for marinette too). still, it's the former that gets the shadow of a: ] Princess.
[ out of his mouth, before he even knows what he's doing. it's not quite as strong as it would've been with the black mask. his smile is much more adrien than chat at the moment, too, when he finally wipes the carefully pensive look on his face and replaces it with something reassuring. ]
... Sorry, that was probably— [ weird as hell? too much too soon? shoving this giant everything on her with no warning? just move on from that. adrien shakes his head. probably a mistake, but he ignores the consequences. ] —I mean, thanks for the offer. Would that be okay? If it's not too much trouble. I can't really go home like this.
[ gabriel agreste would never let him out of the house again. ]
no you
I-it's okay. I won't--tell anyone. [With the stuttering and the pauses, it doesn't sound half as convincing as she'd hoped. What am I doing? This is Chat I'm talking to. Get a grip! Marinette squares her shoulders, forces her voice to stop shaking so much.] I won't tell anyone. I promise.
[Before she can lose the burst of determination, Marinette studies him critically, gaze lingering on the blood in his hair.] Patching you up isn't a problem. Where else are you injured?
no YOU
idly, he wonders what she's thinking—this is probably odd for her. weird. beyond understanding, and he gets that. muted adrien agreste is about as far from chat noir as it gets; that's exactly what he aims for. ]
... That means a lot. [ genuinely. at her question a hand goes up to the back of his head, touching the injury there tentatively (with a small wince). ] It's just— my head, I think.
[ both physically and mentally. magic suits and all meant injuries anywhere else were pretty hard to get, so at least he doesn't have bruises to go with this headache. ]
I'm sorry lol
Come on, you can-- [She breaks off abruptly, the confident, authoritative tone suddenly disappearing in a squeak. A flash of horror on her face is all he's able to catch before she turns away.
Oh no. The pictures. She got so caught up in the conversation, she'd forgotten one very important fact: Adrien's face is plastered everywhere in her room. Panicking, Marinette practically throws herself at the trapdoor she was about to lead him through.]
Be right back! [It's not quite an undignified yelp, but it might as well be. She pauses as she's lowering herself down and glowers at him with all the ferocity she can manage.] And don't you dare peek!
[She slams the trapdoor shut and becomes a whirlwind of action, pulling down the glossy posters as quickly as she can.]