Marichat May 17: Balcony Visits
This is for callmecirce, whose writing has been super inspiring for me this month!
"Hello, Chat Noir," said Marinette, pulling her sunglasses down the bridge of her nose as she turned over her shoulder to look at him. "A bit warm for the catsuit, don't you think?"
"Only if you've been baking in the sun too long, cherie," he said, dropping down off the roof and landing silently on Marinette's small balcony. She pushed her sunglasses back up and looked down at her book, which rested on her knees. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he made himself comfortable against the railing.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Is dropping in on random citizens a pastime of yours?" Marinette marked her place in the novel and set it aside, pulling up one knee and lacing her fingers around it.
To her surprise, Chat's bravado was not in evidence as he rubbed a gloved hand against his neck.
"Ah, not typically, no. My civilian life was kinda cramping my style today, so I thought I'd get away for a while… and then there was this incredible smell…" his nose twitched as he sighted a big earthenware plate set out on the discarded spool Marinette used for a table. She giggled.
"Really, Chat Noir? I thought it was dogs who were known for their sense of smell!" He crouched down to sniff at the plate of triangular baked goodies. She could practically see him salivating. She laughed again. "Well, since you do save Paris all the time, I guess the least this lowly civilian could do is invite you to join me. Samosas and tea?" She stood and lifted the skylight window that led to her loft, yanking out an oversized pillow and tossing it down next to the spool. Chat Noir's mouth opened and closed, and he took a seat. She pulled out a second striped pillow for herself and settled opposite him.
"You seem awfully nonchalant for someone who doesn't regularly…entertain superheroes," he commented, head tilted to one side.
"Well, hopefully you remember that we have met before. Remember Evillustrator?"
"How could I forget?"
"So I hope you won't be offended if I skip the swooning and pour you some tea instead." She lifted the large teapot and placed a hand on the lid to hold it in place as she poured. A grin tugged at one side of Chat Noir's mouth.
"But the swooning's my favorite part," he protested, pushing the filled teacup politely to her and waiting as she filled the second.
"Now, why doesn't that surprise me?" She responded, rolling her eyes. They clinked their teacups and sipped. Chat Noir's green-yellow eyes opened wide as he drank deeply from the cup.
"What is that?! It's so good! " he exclaimed as he paused for a breath.
"Homemade chai. It's a recipe they make in India, I found it in a cookbook last week."
"It's spicy. I like it." Chat Noir took another experimental sip and again found it to his liking. "What's in it?"
"A lot of different stuff. You're probably tasting the cloves and black pepper, if you taste spice. Let's see, cinnamon, cardamom…"
"Well, whatever it is, it's great."
"You better try a samosa, too. It'll knock your socks off. If you wear socks."
Chat Noir flashed her another grin; this time she noticed his perfect teeth glinting in the afternoon sun. "Wouldn't you like to know?" He teased, prompting another eyeroll. He grabbed a samosa and bit into it. A moan involuntarily escaped his lips as he chewed, startling Marinette.
"This, this is the best thing I've ever eaten. You made this?" His sincere appreciation drew a warm blush to her cheeks. She could get used to these kinds of compliments.
"Yeah, I was just messing around, trying some recipes…" she trailed off, arrested by the glow of his eyes.
"Well, if you keep leaving these kinds of treats around, you'll end up attracting strays," he warned.
Marinette felt her breath hitch just a little. "One can only hope," she replied with a slow smile.
I talked with a reader who was curious about why Marinette might be making Indian food, since she's French and Chinese. That's all me; I loooove to cook Indian dishes even though I'm just American with no Indian heritage in my family. In my fictional world, Marinette's basically got time to pursue all the hobbies I wish I could - trying out recipes, sewing, drawing, knitting, etc. And of course, we all write what we know, to some extent. I've only made samosas once, but they turned out killer and the fragrance... let's say it's memorable. I need to stop, I'm so hungry right now.